


The Warrior and the King - Short Reads

by AKThorinson (akdogdriver)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akdogdriver/pseuds/AKThorinson
Summary: A collection of short works featuring Thorin Oakenshield and Kaylea Wolf. Writing challenges, fluff pieces and imagines from my Tumblr page: thewarriorandtheking





	1. The Heart of The King

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to an Imagine. "Imagine Being Known as 'The Heart of the King'." This scene immediately popped into my head. It is still one of my favorite Warrior and The King pieces.

“The Queen! The Queen of Erebor!”   
The boy heard the shouts from the crowd behind him and quickly turned to see. He had just arrived yesterday and could not believe he was going to see the Queen on his first day in Erebor, her beauty was much talked about back home in the Iron Hills. He looked up hopefully at his uncle, who smiled at him. “Go on then, let us have a look.”   
Quickly he crossed to where the crowd was gathering, pushing through them and straining to see. An older Dwarf with an eyepatch stepped aside for him so he could take a place next to him at the front of the crowd. He looked back for his uncle and saw him behind the old Dwarf. The boy turned back to the street, following the gazes of the others. Then he saw the Queen walking towards the Hall of Kings, her handmaidens on either side carrying parcels and rolls of fabrics. She was indeed very beautiful. Flawless white skin and sparkling green eyes, long dark hair reaching almost to her knees, she had no beard but wore her sideburns long with tiny jeweled beads. She was wearing a red silk dress that sparkled with gems, and beautiful rings and jewelry. As she walked she looked side to side at the onlookers, smiling and nodding as she passed. After she had gone by the boy turned back towards his uncle, but the old Dwarf put a hand on his shoulder.   
“You do not want to leave now, laddie,” he said. “You will miss the real show.” The boy looked at him curiously, what could be better than seeing the Queen?   
“If you wait a bit you will see the woman who has the King’s heart.”   
The boy was astonished. “The King has two wives?”   
“This is not his wife, though I do not think that was his choice,” the old Dwarf said with a smile. “She is a warrior from a far country, saved his life at the Battle of the Five Armies, and mine too as it happens. There is none fairer in Middle Earth, I wager. Not even in the realms of the Elven folk.” He nodded over the boy’s shoulder. “There she is, the King’s Woman.”   
The boy turned, he heard shouts of “The King! Hail the King!” He saw King Thorin walking towards him, he recognised him from the time he had visited the Iron Hills. But it was the woman at his side that made him stare, she was a striking figure indeed. Of the race of Men, tall and golden-haired, icy blue eyes and finely sculpted features. She wore her hair in Dwarvish style and was dressed like a traveller in black clothes that looked like they had seen much wear. Leather tunic, heavy canvas coat, soft leather breeches tucked into high riding boots. The boy could see the flash of a silver chain around her neck, that and the silver beads in her hair were the only ornaments she wore. She had a sword slung over her back and he counted three knives. The King and this striking woman were talking as they walked, they seemed to be sharing some kind of secret joke. He saw the King poke her in the side and she laughed, showing even white teeth. She caught the King’s hand and let it go reluctantly. The affection between them was plain for all to see. As they passed by the boy saw the tall woman look at the old Dwarf next to him, she nodded at him, a slight smile on her lips. The old Dwarf smiled back at her and bowed as she passed. The boy watched the King and his woman walk away, he almost wanted to run to where he could see her pass by again. He looked up at the one-eyed Dwarf.   
“Who is she?”   
“That is Kaylea Wolf, laddie,” he looked down at him with a wink. “She will be Queen of Erebor one day, mark my words.”


	2. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff I wrote inspired by what it must be like to have Thorin as a Valentine. This one takes place after the events in The Ravens of Erebor

“What’s the occasion?”   
Kaylea Wolf looked at the slim black box with a sense of apprehension. Today must be another special date that she had completely forgotten about. Thorin was so much better at remembering these things than she was. Kaylea knew it was the day men of Gondor celebrated their beloved, but Thorin had never bothered himself with the holidays of Men. This had to be something else.   
The King of Erebor smiled at her. He knew she would forget which meant he got to surprise her, he always enjoyed that. “This is the day we first met, one hundred years ago.”   
Kaylea looked up at him, calculating the dates in her head. “So it is. I honestly do not know how you remember these things. Has it really been a hundred years? It seems like just yesterday.”   
“I remember some very long years,” Thorin replied. “But it is hard to believe how much has happened since then.”   
A hundred years, that did explain his choice of venue. Kaylea looked out at the view from their table, the city of Minas Tirith falling steeply away beneath them to the plains. The mountains of the Ephel Duath sharp against the evening sky, the peaks just catching the last rays of the setting sun. The White Fox was one of the most luxurious inns in the city, located in the sixth circle it often hosted visiting royalty and its fare was famous far beyond Gondor. The tables were full this evening as many noble couples were celebrating the holiday. Every head had turned when Kaylea Wolf and Thorin Oakenshield had walked across the room to one of the best tables, set apart against the windows and a step up from the main floor. Kaylea was widely regarded as one of the most beautiful women in Middle Earth and tonight she was not wearing her usual black traveling clothes, but a long red dress, mithril beads shining in her elaborately braided golden hair. The King was resplendent in midnight blue, a wide jeweled belt around his fur-trimmed silver vest. The first course had just been cleared when Thorin slid the box across the table.   
“Are you not going to open it?” Thorin asked. Kaylea looked at it, her hands in her lap.  
“Each thing that you give me is more spectacular than the last. They never seem fitting for an old warrior like me.”   
“Nonsense,” Thorin said. He got up from his chair and walked around behind her, reaching over her shoulder to press the latch of the box. “There is a reason I asked you to wear your red dress.”   
Kaylea gasped despite herself. It was a necklace made of three strands of tiny rubies interspersed with the occasional diamond, the chain between them fine as a strand of silk. Stones hanging from the lowest chain gave the effect the gems were dripping off. As everyone in the inn watched Thorin lifted the necklace out and fastened it around her neck, it fit perfectly in the low, heart-shaped neckline of her dress. Thorin kissed her lightly beneath her ear and walked back to take his seat.   
“Now you look like my wife,” he was smiling widely, obviously pleased. Kaylea ran a hand over the necklace, the stones cold against her skin. She felt a bit self-conscious wearing so many jewels in public. She normally only wore jewelry for Thorin in Erebor, and perhaps that was his point.   
“This is amazing. Must have taken you forever to set so many stones.”   
Thorin chuckled. “One hundred. And yes, it took me some time but I always enjoy making these things. Though I do admit, I wish you would wear them more.”   
Kaylea looked at him mischievously. “I hate to tell you this, but you married a soldier.”   
Thorin laughed. “And you married a Dwarf. What a pair we are!”   
Kaylea laughed with him, reaching to pour them more wine. “Thank you, my king. I will wear it for you often,” Kaylea raised her glass, smiling slyly at him. Later that night everything would come off except the necklace.   
“See that you do,” Thorin said, clicking his glass to hers.  
As they drank Kaylea could feel the eyes of many in the room on her. She felt a bit sorry for any man giving out jewelry tonight, everything would look pale beside Thorin’s work. The waiters had just served their second course when the man at the next table kneeled beside his lady, taking her hand. Those around them applauded as she said yes and the man slid a ring on her finger. Thorin was watching closely.   
“That is a good stone,” he said, nodding approvingly at the ring.   
Kaylea shook her head, remembering the time Thorin had done the same to her, so many years ago. “How did you know I would say yes when you did that to me?” She asked.   
Thorin shrugged. “I did not know for sure, I only thought you would find it harder to say no in front of those Elves,” he grinned at her over his wineglass. “I thought it was worth the risk.”   
“Every time you asked I found it harder to refuse you,” Kaylea said.  
“I know,” Thorin smiled knowingly at her. “Why do you think I kept asking?” He looked out the window thoughtfully. “I resented you so much at first. You, and Dain, and Balin, and everyone who kept telling me to marry someone else.”   
Kaylea studied her husband, turning her wine glass between her fingers. “You did surprise me, when I came back and found you married. I did not think you would do it.”   
“It was the right thing to do, in my heart I knew that. My people accept you now, I do not think they would have if not for Shurri, and the heirs she bore me.” He looked back at her with a smile. “And it did work out in the end, I got to marry you not once, but three times!”   
Kaylea smiled back at him, remembering each wedding. The first private ceremony, then the huge coronation in Erebor, the fall wedding her brothers had insisted on at Tor Graham. She reached into the hidden pocket in her dress and brought out a small metal case. “It happens that I also have something for you,” she said. “When you said we were dining here tonight I suspected you might be up to something so I brought it along.”   
Thorin’s eyes went wide when he saw the markings on the box. He looked up at her in astonishment. “You never!”   
“I have had this for many years,” Kaylea said. “It was given to me years ago. I had been saving it, and now I know I was saving it for you.”   
Thorin picked up the box, the markings were the language of Khyr, source of the rarest jewels in the Empire. Fabulous gems that glowed with inner fire, shifting colors as they were turned. To find even one required many years of careful searching. This tiny box was worth as much as a small planet.   
The King looked at her seriously. “You say I give you extravagant gifts! All the worth of Erebor could not buy this.”   
“You are more than all that gold to me, husband. And what better gift could I give than one that even the Fair Folk would envy?”   
Thorin glanced up at her, still amazed. In all his travels with her he had only ever seen one Khyrstone, in the tiara of the Emperor’s daughter. He slid the box open to reveal not one of the multicolored gems, but two. Now it was the King’s turn to gasp. He did not want to lift them out of the case in the crowded inn, but moved them in their holders with his finger. They were nearly flawless, cut by a master. Thorin was stunned. The only gems that could outshine the fabled Silmarils of the Elves, and now his wife had given him two!   
“After all these years you can still surprise me,” Thorin shook his head. “I will set these one in each of our crowns. As a testament to our love.” He reached across the table and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I cannot live without my warrior Queen.”   
“And I cannot face life without my handsome King,” Kaylea replied with a soft smile.   
Thorin looked across the table at his beautiful wife, her eyes shining over the sparkling necklace. He was very much looking forward to the next hundred years.


	3. Birthday Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little piece of fluff I wrote in response to a writing challenge: It's your character's birthday. How does that go? I almost hesitate to post it, but it is pretty cute.

The early morning sun was slanting in through the arches of Erebor, bathing the gallery in golden light. Thorin Oakenshield was watching his son swing his new ax with amusement. He stepped forward, laying a hand on Durin’s shoulder.   
“Do not hold it that way,” he said. He knelt down and showed his son how to properly place his hands on the handle. “This way will make you faster in battle.”   
The boy tested his grip, making sure he placed his hands precisely as the King instructed. “Thank you, father,” he said seriously. He moved away, testing his swing.   
Kaylea Wolf stood leaning against an archway, she smiled watching them. She loved to watch Thorin with his children, he was always teaching, always patient. His fatherly pride evident with every word and gesture. She was glad she had remembered to bring presents for Thorin’s sons, it had been Durin’s birthday just two days ago.   
Thorin looked up at her, tall and beautiful, the mithril beads in her golden hair catching the light. All in his city called her the King’s Woman. Today she had set aside her sword and heavy traveling clothes, the laces of her dark green tunic loose. Both of them were still riding the afterglow of their night together, it had been many years since Kaylea was last in Erebor. Thorin straightened up and came back to her side, taking her hand in his. “I think you must have a magic bag full of perfect gifts for every occasion,” he said, smiling at her. Then he looked at her curiously, as if he had just thought of something. “When is your birthday, my love? I have never heard you speak of it.”   
Kaylea shook her head. “I am not much of a celebrator.”   
Thorin blinked at her, mystified. “How can you not celebrate the day you were born? Or is that not a custom in your country?”   
Kaylea sighed. Yes, but I was never actually born. Among those who came out of genetic engineering programs there was always disagreement over what should be considered a “birth” day, was it the incept date? The day the creche was opened? The day you opened your eyes? For Kaylea and her brothers, after so many years any actual date had lost all significance; they usually just exchanged gifts at Yule and left it at that.   
Thorin was regarding her with growing concern. “Surely you have not forgotten the date?”   
Kaylea smiled at him. “Days are calculated differently in my land,” she replied, quickly calculating from her incept date. “Mine is May 12th.”   
“That is today!” Thorin exclaimed, with a wide smile. “Happy birthday, my love!” He drew her close and kissed her, as Kaylea relaxed into his arms she could think of no better cause for celebration than to be in Erebor with her King on this beautiful spring day. The last time she was here Thorin’s second son had just been born, now he was a boy of eight.   
After a moment, Thorin drew back. “How old are you today?”  
“Older than you,” Kaylea smiled at him, running her fingers down one of his braids. “But I can still keep up.” She let her fingers travel down the front of his shirt.   
Thorin laughed. “I am well aware of that!” He leaned in close, inhaling deeply. When she was gone it was always the scent of her that lingered the longest, he would catch a hint of it on his bedclothes, on the tunics she left in his closet. “So, what would you like for your birthday? I would give you jewelry, but you so rarely wear it.” He rolled the mithril chain Kaylea was wearing between his fingers, on it was the ring he had given her after the Battle of the Five Armies. One day he would put that ring on her left hand, with the wedding band he had made for it. “I have many beautiful blades in my storerooms, but your steel is superior to anything I can make. Perhaps a jeweled collar for Hector?” He waved at her wolf, who was lying a few feet away regarding them with bored yellow eyes.  
Kaylea smiled at him. “The best present you could give me is a day alone with you, my king.” She took his hand and they walked out to the ramparts, the land laid out before them in the morning sun. The sky was cloudless, the sun warm on their faces after coming out of the cool air of Erebor. “Perhaps we can go for a ride?” Kaylea lowered her voice. “When is the Queen due to return?”   
“She is in the Iron Hills for months,” Thorin replied. “Not that it would matter if she was here, as you know there is little love between us.” He looked out at the vale before the gates of his kingdom. “Let us go for a ride, if that is what you wish. Where shall we go?”   
“Do you know if that trapper still has a cabin on the north slope of the mountain?” She and Thorin had spent a few blissful nights there after the battle for Erebor. It was a bit rough but well-constructed and comfortable, and close enough they could sneak away there for a night alone together.   
Thorin smiled at her mischievously. “It is still there. I know because I bought it from him.”  
Kaylea gave him a surprised look. “What does the King of Erebor need with an old cabin?”   
“Perhaps he needs something to give his mistress for her birthday.”   
Kaylea laughed out loud. “No doubt you have made some improvements! How many rooms does it have now?”   
Thorin drew back, crossing his arms. “For your information, the roof was in need of repairs.” Then he smiled again, remembering the nights they had spent there. “I have not been there since it was finished, shall we go and see it?”

It was a perfect day for a ride. The snow-capped mountains standing out against the blue sky, the hills covered in all the possible shades of green, the air warm enough to travel without a coat. Hector ran far from the trail through the long grass, hunting voles and snakes, when he came up beside Kaylea’s horse his black coat was dusted yellow with pollen. Thorin found himself very comfortable on the back of her black horse, it always reminded him of the night they first met, the wild ride they had taken through the woods. Of course now he did not have to worry about where he was putting his hands and he could kiss her neck whenever he felt like it. Kaylea enjoyed it just as much, she had forgotten how she enjoyed having him ride behind her. She also had fond memories of that first night, how hard it had been for her to focus on hunting orcs when she had been so conscious of Thorin’s body pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck. Feeling him against her now brought back the memories of their first meeting in a rush. She remembered so well the first time she had set eyes on him, it had been like finding a part of herself she had not known was missing. 

The afternoon was wearing on when they arrived at the cabin. It was built on the edge of a little meadow up the tree-lined northern slopes of the Lonely Mountain, beside it a clear stream tumbled over smooth rocks into the ravine below. Kaylea could see it had been rebuilt, in stone of course, but looked very much the same. There was a run-in shed on the side now for her horse and a new porch along the front, it looked as cozy and inviting as Kaylea remembered. While she cared for her horse Thorin went inside to get a fire started. When Kaylea followed him in she found the trapper’s simple furniture had been replaced with soft chairs and couches, there were tapestries instead of drying animal skins on the walls. What had been one room was now three, a separate bedroom and bathroom had been added, but the main living space was unchanged. A beautifully built hearth on one side and the little kitchen on the other. Kaylea went into the bathroom to wash up, when she came out Thorin was standing in front of the fire, hands in his pockets. She came up behind him and slid her arms around him, kissing him on the neck.   
“I love what you have done with the old place,” she said softly. “And thank you for this day, it is the best present I could ever wish for.”   
Thorin turned around in her arms, he reached up to brush a lock of hair away from her face, his fingers came to rest on one of her braids that matched his. “Happy birthday, my love,” he said. As he took his other hand out of his pocket Kaylea could see he was holding a multi-stranded necklace glittering with emeralds and diamonds. He looked at her a bit reproachfully. “You did not really think I would give you an old cabin for your birthday?”   
Kaylea chuckled softly, sweeping her hair to one side so he could fasten the clasp. “Not for a minute.”


	4. Tir na Nog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story for a Song Inspired Challenge on my Tumblr blog. The song is Tir na Nog, by Celtic Woman. It is a bit of a departure from my usual Warrior and The King stories (it is mostly the King) , it was fun to try something different. This story takes place somewhere between the events in Beyond Erebor and The Ravens of Erebor and begins with Thorin taking a walk in the woods of Kaylea's planet.

It was one of those perfect fall days. The sun warm, a hint of chill in the air, the faint whisper of winter to come. The ground was red with fallen pine needles, the air full of the smell of damp earth and sun on rotten logs. Thorin Oakenshield picked his way along the narrow path, between the towering trees. All his life he had enjoyed walking in the woods, he had spent much of his youth exploring the forests around Erebor, on a day like this he could almost imagine he was walking the paths of the Lonely Mountain. It was two days until Samhain, his wife Kaylea Wolf would be arriving tomorrow. After almost six months apart he was impatient to see her, to feel her soft hair, taste the sweat on her skin after their lovemaking, to bask in her brilliant smile.  
As he moved through the forest Thorin had the feeling of being watched. He paused several times, sending his awareness out around him but he could not locate it. He could feel the woods, the soft exhale of cool earth, hear a distant waterfall of birdsong, the chattering of offended squirrels. Whatever was watching him was somewhere off in the forest, staying at a distance. It did not feel threatening. As he walked the woods began to open up, the ferns and mossy logs stretching away on either side under the dark firs. Thorin was looking at the path, his thoughts full of his beautiful wife. He had found a beautiful old bracelet for her in a little shop on Sparta, First Empire work and very fine, but he would need to rework it a bit and reset the gems. He was thinking about the settings when he felt a sudden shift, like a door had shut behind him. Looking around he could see the path had passed between two standing stones, tall and straight. Blackened and moss-covered, he had not noticed them until he felt the air change. Around him the forest appeared the same, all was still and dappled with sunlight, but he had the feeling everything was somehow changed, like he had stepped into a different reality. There was a tension in the air of something about to happen. Then he heard the sound of soft singing on the wind.

Come, my love, our worlds will part  
The gods will guide us across the dark,  
Come with me and be mine, my love  
Stay and break my heart

Come beyond the ancient fog,  
Tir na Nog, oh  
Come with me to Tir na Nog

The voice was sad, and filled with such longing, almost without thinking he followed the sound. He came to a place where the ground slanted down to a wall of rock, like the land had suddenly fallen away to reveal the bones beneath. A meandering wall of granite, almost fifteen meters high in places, the roots of trees hanging over the edge. Almost in front of him at the base of the cliff Thorin could see a narrow opening, obviously not natural. Even more curious now, he made his way down to it, laying his hands on the stone. The rock was ancient and deep, he could feel the ore twisting through the stone, pockets of silver waiting to be found. The opening was bordered with some kind of script, faint, almost worn away. Dorsai was old enough to have seen the rise and fall of several civilizations, he had heard the standing stones and their language were from some earlier time, their meaning lost to history. The singing started again, wafting out through the opening, he had to know the origin of this sad voice. Thorin eased through the entrance, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust for the darkness. The passage was wet and narrow, a natural fracture in the rock that had been enlarged, the floor leveled, he stepped on the remains of old paving stones. 

Far away from the land you knew,  
The dawn of day reaches out to you.  
Though it feels like a fairy tale,  
All of this is true. 

Run with me, have a look around,  
We build our life over sacred ground.  
Come my love, our worlds may part,  
We’ll be safe and sound.

Thorin made his way along the passage, it slanted gently downward, just enough that he could not see far ahead. Underground he was in his element, his nose full of the rich smell of wet stone around him, he felt a current of air on his forehead, a sign the passage opened up ahead. He came to a place where the passage narrowed as it wound around a large boulder, he turned sideways, stepping carefully over the loose rock underfoot and suddenly there was a huge cavern before him, a black lake stretching away into darkness. He could feel a breeze tickling his face, a current of air that told him there was another passage close by. Tiny shafts of light hit the water from somewhere high above, illuminating the space in ghostly light. Directly ahead of him Thorin could see a jumbled outcrop of stone, at the top was a flat-topped rock with what looked like a sword stuck in it, illuminated seemingly by a light of its own. The whole thing was so odd, the sad singing, the huge cavern, now a sword. Thorin wondered if he had somehow wandered into a dream.  
That will teach me to walk between standing stones, he thought to himself.  
Since he had already come this far, he decided he might as well take a look at that sword, he clambered to the top of the rock. Blade stuck halfway into the solid stone was a long bastard sword, polished like a mirror, glowing in the dim light. The blade had to be adamantium, or some like metal, the hilt had a simple guard, it was without ornament or inscription of any kind. Beautifully made, a king’s weapon. Wondering how it came to be here, Thorin put a hand on it and immediately felt a sense of belonging, like it was waiting for him. It felt warm and familiar in his hand. He pulled it out of the stone and turned it to inspect the edge. As he did so he heard the clink of metal from the other side of the rock. When he looked over he was surprised to see a young woman sitting at the edge of the lake. She was pressed against the stone beneath him, her legs curled under her to keep them out of the water. Thorin could see she was very beautiful though she was also very dirty, her long black hair disheveled and her dress that had once been rich fabric had fallen to rags.  
“Only a great king can pull that sword out of the stone!” She whispered, it was her voice he had heard on the wind.  
Thorin grinned. “You don’t say.” He jumped down to join her, no more than a six meter drop but it obviously startled the strange woman. She rose to her feet, quick as a cat, her eyes wide. Though she looked like a young girl Thorin had dealt with enough Elves in his time to know she was not. She was old, perhaps as old as those standing stones, the smooth curves of her body barely covered by the remains of her dress. Thorin could see she had a heavy iron chain around her ankle that disappeared into the lake, the skin under it raw and bleeding. In his youth Thorin would have immediately freed the woman and led her to safety, these days he was much more cautious. There might be a very good reason she was chained to the lake.  
“Who are you? What is this place?” Thorin asked.  
The woman stared, she seemed confused. “Are you looking for Tir na Nog? Is that not why you are here?”  
“Should I be?” Thorin asked. As he spoke he felt another presence in the cavern, looking down to see tiny waves hitting his shoes. Turning toward the lake he saw a flat, horned head rise out of the water, yellow eyes filled with malice. A row of spines slowly rose behind it, like a row of black swords piercing the surface. The eyes drifted to the right, intent not on Thorin but the woman who was now cowering behind him, her hands tight on his arm.  
“The water drake,” she whispered. “He has an old wound on his shoulder, it is the only place you can pierce his armor.”  
Thorin shook his head, What in Mahal’s name was going on? He watched the creature sidle closer, going over his options. He did not have a sidearm, just his knives, the sword and his body shield. It would have to do. Compared to Smaug, this drake was tiny but all dragons were dangerous and not to be underestimated.  
So much for caution. Thorin shifted the sword in his grip and brought it down on the chain around the woman’s ankle, the link split with a pop. He reached down to pull the chain up out of the water, coiling it over his left arm, watching the dragon approach. He had four long coils before the drake reared up, Thorin had just enough time to hit his shield. He could feel the heat of the dragon’s breath, blue flame enveloping him, the strange woman pressed close against him, her head against his back.  
The drake shook his head in frustration. Thorin thumbed his shield off, it obscured his vision and he would have only one chance at this. The dragon was half out of the water now, blue scales dripping, wings half spread, Thorin could not see any wound. It was snaking its head side to side as if trying to see around him, on impulse Thorin moved to his right. The drake caught sight of the woman and fixed his eye on her, moving to the left to watch her.  
There it is, Thorin thought, spotting the long gash of missing scales just behind the dragons left shoulder. He had to activate his shield when the drake treated him to another blast of fire, as soon as it stopped he stepped forward into the water, testing the weight of the sword in his hand.  
“Is that all you have, lizard?” Thorin shouted. “Come and get me!”  
The drake fixed him with a hateful stare, eyes narrowing, not used to being insulted. The creature reared up to his full height and lunged at Thorin, intent on biting him in half, rows of long teeth flashed, his speed breathtaking. Thorin was faster, he shifted to his right, throwing the chain at the dragon’s head. He had timed the throw precisely, the chain whipped around the drake’s neck, Thorin jumped forward to grab the swinging end and pull it tight. The drake’s head hit the water, drenching the strange woman who was pressing herself against the rock. Thorin jumped lightly on the drake’s neck, then quickly onto it’s back and buried his sword in the creature’s shoulder. He jumped clear as the creature thrashed and screamed, blue flame hitting the roof and walls, then suddenly it was still.  
“I hate dragons,” Thorin said under his breath. He stepped into the water to retrieve the sword when he felt the woman close behind him. As he turned she put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. She tasted of summer honey, of peaches and strawberries, of fields of green grass and fragrant flowers. Thorin just wanted to kiss her forever, he suddenly could not remember why he had wanted to be somewhere else.  
“Not only a great king, but a hero! I am saved!” All sadness was gone from her voice now, she looked up at him through long lashes. “Now I will take you home.”  
Thorin shook his head, trying to remember where he was. “Who are you? What is this place?”  
“I am called Brigit,” she replied, running her hands up his arms. “This is the path to Tir na Nog.”  
Thorin found he very much wanted to see this Tir na Nog, just as he wanted to slide his hand under the ragged hem of her dress. He could not seem to take his eyes off the soft curve of her breasts, the hints of perfect white skin revealed by the rents in her now dripping dress.  
“Is it far?” He asked, tearing his eyes away to look across the lake. He felt something reaching through the fog in his head, teasing the edge of his awareness, wasn’t there somewhere else he was supposed to be?  
She smiled softly, stepping closer to him. “It is not far, my lord. There is a boat nearby.” She extended her hand, Thorin realized he still had the sword in his hand and slid it into his belt, then set his hand in hers. “May I ask your name?” She asked, looking at him shyly.  
“I am called Thorin Oakenshield.”  
“A strange name for a King.”  
“It is rather a long story,” Thorin replied, though he found he could not remember it. Was that my name? Speaking it, it felt like it belonged to someone else. Looking ahead he saw a slender boat resting against the rocks. The woman laid a hand on it and it slid out into the lake, she stepped in lightly, guiding Thorin to the seat at the stern. As soon as they were seated he heard the woman say something in a strange language and the craft started to move across the water on its own. The woman hummed softly to herself, the graceful boat making hardly a ripple as it moved. As they neared the far end of the lake a low mist appeared on the water, flowing out from the high arched opening ahead. Thorin had been studying Brigit’s figure when that sense of being watched crept into his awareness again. He felt that presence, close-by and urgent. It brought him back to himself, suddenly he remembered he was not supposed to be here. He looked back, glimpsing a quick flash of white at the top of the stone where the sword had been.  
“What is it, my lord?” Brigit asked, turning back toward him. “Did you not come alone?”  
“Just making sure that drake is really dead,” Thorin replied quickly, wondering if he should risk jumping in the lake. Was the drake the only creature that made its home there? Almost in the same moment as he was considering it, Brigit was taking his hands, pressing them to her cheeks, drawing his eyes to her face. Her green eyes like deep emerald pools, full of promise and mystery, Thorin felt himself instantly drawn into them. Brigit guided his hands down the curves of her body before he sat back, he found he wanted to see this Tir na Nog even more now.  
The craft began to pick up speed as it passed under the archway, the mist swirling into the boat, curling around their feet, like some kind of ethereal creature. The tunnel dark, but he could see it was lined with fitted stones, smooth, polished and ancient. There was another arch some distance ahead, strong light beyond it. As they approached it Brigit began to sing again softly.

From the shores, through the ancient mists  
You bear the mark of my Elven kiss  
Clear the way, I will take you home,  
To eternal bliss.

Time won’t follow the path we came  
The world you left, it forgot your name  
Stay with me and be mine, my love  
Spare my heart the pain.

They sped through the second archway into brilliant sunshine, the little boat gliding into a narrow sea channel. Around them was the soft sigh of ocean waves, the cries of seabirds, the sharp exhale of surfacing seals. Before them was a wooded isle, a stone pier extending into the water, hints of grand halls among the sheltering oak trees. Thorin could hear soft music floating over the water, the sounds of laughter. He felt he must have misremembered where he was, he had thought he was underground. The little boat glided swiftly towards the pier, straight and true. Thorin could see two tall men waiting for them, they looked like nobles, fair and richly dressed. The largest man looked to Thorin’s eye almost like a Dwarf, only much bigger, stoutly built with a flowing beard and short legs. He threw his arms wide in welcome to the raven-haired woman.  
“Brigit! You have returned to us at last!” His deep voice boomed over the water, he was wearing a finely embroidered tunic and a wide belt covered with metal studs, his long beard tucked behind his belt buckle. He gave her a hand out of the boat, folded her into a hug then extended a hand to Thorin. Thorin took it and stepped onto the pier. The big man did not let go of his hand immediately, looking at it curiously.  
“You are a smith!” He eyed the sword in Thorin’s belt. “And a king?”  
Thorin nodded. “I am both.”  
“And a hero,” Brigit added, smiling at Thorin with genuine affection. “He bested the drake. Quite easily, I might add.”  
The big man stood back, obviously impressed. “Where do you come from that smiths can be kings, and great warriors? That is a rare combination!”  
“It is a long story,” Thorin replied, he knew he was all of those things but felt like that was some life he had now left behind. Still, he felt an instant kinship with the big man, almost like he had known him for years. He could see the scars on the man’s hands, the marks of years working hot metal, a hammer and tongs hanging from his belt.  
“I hope you are planning to tell us some of those stories,” Brigit said, laughing, the sound like a stream flowing merrily over polished stone.  
“Brigit is back, the drake is dead. I think that calls for a drink!” The speaker was the other tall man, though his clothes were very fine he was dressed like a woodsman, as if he had just come from stalking animals through the forest. His outer garments were made of soft leather, his long hair tied back in a leather clasp. Thorin looked at the two closely, they looked like men he might meet in Gondor, or some other great city, had he somehow found his way back to Middle Earth? Was this ancient Numenor? The fog in his head was too thick to puzzle it out. The big man clapped Thorin on the shoulder.  
“A drink is an excellent idea! I am Goibniu, by the way. The other is Lugh.”  
“Thorin Oakenshield,” he replied, thinking a drink actually did sound like a good idea. Knowing the large man was fellow metalsmith, Thorin guessed he was the one who made the sword and asked him how it came to be stuck in a stone.  
“Ah, that would be the prophecy!” Goibniu said, inclining his head toward Brigit, who had walked ahead. “She did not tell you?” Thorin shook his head. “A druid told the king her husband would be the one to depose him. He had me forge that sword, the king that pulled it out would be killed by the drake and she would remain unmarried.” He gave Thorin an appraising glance. “Did not really work out that way.”  
“That is the way with prophecies, I have found,” Thorin replied, feeling again that nagging sensation that he did not belong here. He had been the subject of a prophecy before, but could not remember when.  
They had come to the end of the pier and as Brigit stepped onto the earth it was as if the land itself let out its breath. The trees seemed to quiver, like a breeze wafted through them, suddenly the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers, of new grass, of soft rains on new earth. Thorin looked around amazed, it was as if the seasons had changed in a single instant.  
Goibniu smiled widely. “It has been too long since there was spring in the land!” He exclaimed. “It is good to have you back, girl!” He clapped his hands, then turned back to Thorin. “Now, let me tell you about that sword. Forging enchanted weapons is a tricky business.” Thorin listening attentively, as they made their way along a finely paved road. He had never had occasion to forge an enchanted weapon, but was eager to learn. After a short walk they came to a grand stone hall. It was long and narrow, like the longhouses of the Rohan, but made of fine marble. Thorin could hear there seemed to be quite a party inside, the sounds of music and conversation wafted out the open windows. Goibniu pushed the doors open to reveal a great feast already in progress, long tables were set on either side of the hall, lined with every imaginable delicacy, the benches filled with men and women, all handsome and richly dressed. They raised their glasses and hailed Goibniu as he came in, someone put a tankard in Thorin’s hand and he drank it gladly. The mead was sweet and refreshing, he had drained it before he even took a seat at the table. What happened next was forever jumbled in Thorin’s mind. He joined in the feast, drinking tankards of the excellent mead and eagerly sampling the many delicacies laid out on the table. He was suddenly ravenously hungry and slowly got the impression this was a celebration of some kind. Goibniu called for the story of how he defeated the drake, Thorin ended up telling it several times. He did not know how long he sat at the table, it could have been a few hours, it might have been a few days. The light did not change and there was no sense of time passing, there was good conversation, entertainments, music and laughter, he found all his cares had left him and he was happy to sit and enjoy himself. Every now and then he would get that strange sensation of being watched again, of something nibbling at the edge of his mind. He found he could not concentrate on it long enough to decide what it was, the mead had quite gone to his head and he had no desire to leave the party.  
Sometime during the third telling of the story of the water drake Brigit appeared, clothed in a soft white dress, a circlet of flowers in her hair, her white skin smelling of rose petals. She took a seat beside Thorin, which started another round of toasts. He could never quite remember how it happened but soon she was sitting in his lap and he was kissing her, his hand tracing the curve of her breasts through her gauzy dress. She was running her fingers through his hair, leaning into his caress.

Without warning Thorin found himself on Ravenhill in winter, a bitter wind in his face. Kaylea Wolf stood at the edge of the overlook, furs over her black clothes, she turned to look at him with a soft smile. He could smell her so acutely, each scent distinct, desert sand, balsam fir, the lavender oil in her hair, the leather of her tunic, the oil on her sword; his love for her like a stabbing pain in his heart. He could see the heat of her body, her hair like spun gold, the mithril beads she wore on her braids shining in the winter light. He worshipped her with every bone in his body, he would lay down his life for her in an instant. Then came a blinding flash of white-hot rage and betrayal, he could feel long teeth on his throat. Thorin felt his heart fall through his body, the thought that he had lost her like tumbling into a bottomless pit, the impact of that rage like a killing blow to his forehead. He put a hand over his eyes, trying to regain his balance.  
“Ajax,” he whispered, Kaylea’s dire wolf was somewhere close by, their telepathy could not reach far. That was the presence he had been feeling, trying to get through to him. The wolf had finally just blasted him with a vision of Kaylea as he saw her, with all his senses, all his devotion, and his anger at Thorin - this is what you have lost, fool! Thorin felt stunned, like he had been run over by a train, he put a hand to his throat, fully expecting to see his fingers come away wet with blood. Slowly the sounds of the celebration around him started to come back into his awareness, the singing and laughter, there was some woman he did not recognize sitting in his lap. Dimly he remembered, the lake, the sword, the chained girl and the standing stones.

“What is it, beloved?” Brigit was asking him, her hands on his cheeks. “Where did you go just now?” She was happy to have found such a handsome husband, she loved his long hair and his blue eyes, he was a bit shorter than she would have liked, and he was dressed very strangely, but he was strong enough to best a dragon and she could feel the skill in his hands.  
Thorin shook his head, still dazed, but completely sober now. “I think your excellent mead has rather gone to my head,” he said with a smile, lifting her off his lap. “I better take some air to clear it.”  
Brigit grabbed his arms to stop him. “You cannot go now! The ceremony is about to start.”  
“I am sure you would prefer that I be able to stand up for it,” Thorin said gently, he kept his eyes down, remembering he should not meet hers and definitely sure he did not want to stay for any ceremony. “I will be right back.” Trying to not move as if he was in a hurry he headed for the door, rather unsteadily. Normally his enhancements would have flushed alcohol out of his system, whatever he had been drinking was something else. Ajax had cleared his head, now he focused on making his body respond. As soon as he was out the door he took off running to the pier, hoping the boat was still there. Ajax stepped out of the bushes ahead of him, dripping wet, his yellow eyes hard and accusing.  
“I am sorry, Master Wolf,” Thorin stopped, holding up his hands, hoping the dire wolf was not really going to tear out his throat. “I am in your debt.” He noticed another wolf behind him, smaller and almost completely white, her yellow eyes looking at him with concern. He had never seen this wolf before. “Where is Kaylea?”  
Ajax fixed him with a hard stare. Thorin got an image of her searching the forest where he had been hiking before all this started. So, her wolf had come through the portal somehow, but she had not. Thorin hurried back to the boat, he could see there was a tall man standing on the pier, leaning on a long staff. As he walked towards him Thorin steeled himself for whatever was going to come next. He still had the sword he had drawn from the stone, but he guessed it would be no help to him now. The man was very tall, wearing a dark cloak over his clothes, hood drawn up over his head, a heavy aura of power surrounded him, like he was all the magic of this place made manifest. His staff was intricately carved, steel-tipped at both ends, not a wizard’s staff, a fighting weapon. His grey eyes shown brightly under his bushy brows, regarding Thorin with a mixture of humor and respect. He looked very much like the statues Thorin had seen around Dorsai of their god Odin, though with two eyes.  
“I hope you are not here to stop me from leaving,” Thorin said, Ajax and the other wolf coming up beside him, their hackles rising. “Because that is not going to happen.”  
The tall man smiled slightly. “I am here to make sure you go,” his voice was deep, and rich with wisdom. “I can see you do not belong here. You are lucky to have such companions, to guide you back to your world. Brigit will be disappointed, she seems to have taken a liking to you.”  
Thorin studied the man carefully, wondering if he was the king Goibniu had spoken of, or was it the druid? “I already have a kingdom, and a queen I love with all my heart,” Thorin told him. “I have no wish to fulfill your prophecy.”  
The man laughed, a deep, hearty sound. “It is the nature of prophecies to be fulfilled, just as it is our nature to defy them.” He looked at Thorin closely, eyes shining brightly. “Go now, they will soon be coming after you.”  
Thorin drew out the sword, offering it to the stranger. “I believe this should remain here.”  
The man shook his head, stepping back away from the boat. “That is yours. If you pulled it from the stone, you were meant to have it.”  
The two wolves jumped into the slender craft, the white female taking a place at the very front. Thorin stepped in behind them, as soon as he was seated the boat began to move. He could just see the tunnel in the cliff across the narrow straight, through the shifting mists. Once it was underway the boat began to pick up speed, heading for the opening straight as an arrow. Thorin looked back once at the isle, spotting a group of people standing on the pier, one in a white dress. He felt a tiny tug of regret, just for a moment he had felt what it meant to be free of all responsibility, for the first time in his life. He wondered if he would have been truly happy, without his beautiful wife, his children, the kingdom he had built. These were the things that he had worked and sacrificed for, that gave his life meaning. He turned back to the swiftly approaching tunnel, laying a hand on Ajax’s back. The vision of Kaylea the wolf had shown him had created a sort of bond between them, once two minds touched a shadow was always left behind.  
“I am never going to complain about you sleeping on the bed again, Master Wolf,” Thorin told him as the boat slipped into the tunnel, the mists enveloping them. As he scratched Ajax on the back, Thorin looked at the white wolf, standing in the prow of the boat, watchful and serious, and wondered where she had come from. She was young, not far out of puppyhood, her white coat dusted with black firs. A pretty thing, probably belonged to one of the Graham girls.

It seemed to take a long time to travel through the tunnel and across the lake. The drake was still there, though it looked like it had been dead for some time. Looking at it, Thorin wondered how long he had been gone, the flesh of the body looked sunken, the scales peeling. It had seemed like only a few hours, but it must have been many days. He paused beside the dead dragon, on impulse he bent and pried out several of the longest teeth, they would make excellent knife handles, and also proof that all this had actually happened. He was wading out of the lake towards the tunnel when he felt the hilt of the sword on his side and remembered the tall man’s words. Though he admired the craft of the weapon and very much wanted to keep it, Thorin felt it did not belong on Dorsai. It was part of this world, this side of the stones. Goibniu had said it was enchanted and he did not want to take any chances, it might not let him return to his own world. He looked out at the still black water behind him, vanishing into darkness. Drawing the sword out of his belt he threw it far out across the lake. Before it hit the water an arm clad in white emerged from the lake and caught it by the hilt. Thorin stared as it sank slowly back under the surface. He felt the white wolf at his side, she was also looking at the spot where the sword had disappeared.  
“Let’s go home,” he told her. Before this gets any weirder, if that is possible. Ajax and the strange wolf led the way through the tunnel and out into the forest of Dorsai. The late afternoon sun was slanting through the trees, the air growing cool, the forest still and strangely quiet. Thorin made his way back to the path, following it the way he had come. When he came to the standing stones he hesitated, not sure how he had passed through them into this place, he was uncertain now of how he was going to get back. It could not be as simple as merely walking between them. Ajax gave him a disgusted look, then trotted between the stones and disappeared. Thorin blinked, maybe it was that simple. He walked through the opening and nothing happened, he turned and saw the white wolf sitting in the path watching him. Smiling he walked back through the stones to join her.  
“Any ideas, Miss Wolf?” He asked. “I really do not want to go back and ask for directions.”  
The wolf regarded him calmly. Thorin got a picture of himself walking down the path, then disappearing between the stones as Ajax had just done. Thorin looked at her, puzzled. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember how he had walked through the stones the first time. He had been thinking about Kaylea, he turned, walking slowly, turning his thoughts to his wife. Thorin tried it several times, with no success. He returned to stand beside the wolf, who showed him the same image as before. Thorin shook his head, wishing he could understand what she was trying to tell him. He knew the intensity of the images Ajax had used were still haunting his thoughts, the pain of losing Kaylea was like a sword lodged in his heart. He decided to try something different. Walking some distance back down the path Thorin sat on a rock and cleared his mind. He concentrated on his breathing, relaxing his body as he had been trained. He pushed the images Ajax had sent him out of his mind, letting the quiet of the forest seep in, waiting until the smell of damp earth and the rustle of wind in the leaves filled his awareness before he decided to try again. He rose and began walking slowly, trying to return his mind to the same path it had been on when he passed the stones. It was just a day until Samhain when he would see his wife again, he remembered the bracelet he had bought for her. He could not wait to give it to her, but of course he would need to do a bit of work to it first, and change the settings on the stones, they did not show off the qualities of the gems at all. He began thinking about the setting for the biggest stone, trying different styles in his mind. Then he felt it, that door closing behind him. 

He looked up from the path at the now dark forest, moonlight slanting through the trees. Behind him were the standing stones, twenty meters ahead was a campsite, a tent pitched and fire sending sparks up into the night. He saw Kaylea stand up from beside the fire and come striding towards him, a wide smile on her face. Feeling something cold brush his hand, he looked down to see the white wolf at his side, looking up at him with laughing eyes. I knew you could do it, she seemed to be saying.  
Thorin stepped quickly forward and into Kaylea’s arms, holding her tight against him. They held each other for a long time before he brought her mouth to his, wanting nothing more than to just kiss her until the stars went out. She tasted so good, so familiar, he felt like it had been an age since he had held her in his arms.  
“Where have you been?” Kaylea asked, drawing back, resting her forehead on his.  
“Someplace called Tir na Nog,” Thorin replied, still holding her close, hoping this was not another illusion. There was that desert smell, that hint of balsam fir he knew so well, she felt warm in his arms, he held on to her tightly. He would never let her go.  
“Where?” Kaylea was clearly puzzled.  
“On the other side of those stones. How long have I been gone?”  
“Ten days,” she told him.  
Thorin stared. “Ten days? It seemed like just an afternoon!” He put a hand on her cheek. “It is a good thing you sent Ajax, without him I might still be there.”  
Kayea smiled. “That was your wolf. After you did not return to the Tor we started a search for you. She found Ajax in the forest and took him with her to where you had gone. I have been waiting here for your return.”  
Thorin looked at the two wolves, lying by the fire together. “My wolf?”  
“The dire wolves of Dorsai choose their own companions, it is your good luck that she chose you.”  
“They could cross between the stones, but you could not?” Thorin asked, not at all sure that he wanted a wolf of his own.  
She gave the stones a quick glance. “On Dorsai there are many stories of people who walked between the stones, some were never seen again, some came back telling strange tales. We are warned as children to stay away from them at Samhain, that is when the barrier between the realms of the seen and unseen is at its weakest. The stones decide who they will let pass, I was not allowed. The wolves, it is said, live a bit in each world. It is easy for them to cross over.” She reached up to smooth a stray hair away from his face. “I am happy they found you, husband. I would be quite lost without you. I must say, am looking forward to hearing this story.”  
Thorin looked down, the whole thing was like a dream, already starting to fade. He took her hands in his. “I do not know if I can even tell it, my love. It feels like it happened to somebody else.”  
Kaylea raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember the girl?”  
Thorin shot a glance at Ajax, the wolf could have been back for many hours, plenty of time to show Kaylea everything he had seen. He smiled a bit sheepishly at his wife. “I remember her,” he said. “I will tell you everything, though I don’t know if it will make much sense.” He met his wife’s eyes, resting a hand on her cheek. “But let me tell the story tomorrow. Now I just want to hold you in my arms and sit by the fire and talk of everyday things. Where have you been since I saw you last? How was Samhain, which I seem to have missed?” He fingered one of her braids. “And I need to redo these.”  
Kaylea smiled at him. “Very well, husband. Tonight, let us celebrate your return.” She put her arm around his waist, pulling him against her. “But do not think you are getting out of telling me about Tir na Nog, and this girl you almost ran off with.”  
Thorin shook his head, not looking forward to explaining himself to Kaylea, especially since it felt like it had all been a dream. Had he really almost been married to that girl? As they joined the wolves by the fire, he put a hand in his pocket and felt the dragon teeth.  
It really did happen, he thought to himself, making a mental note to give the standing stones of Dorsai a wide berth in the future.


	5. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another from the 52-week storytelling challenge I am participating in on Tumblr. Follow me there at: thewarriorandtheking. The one I posted there was an expansion on a scene from The Warrior and The King, this one takes place much later, after the events in Beyond Erebor.   
> The prompt for this story was: "The sea of emotion swelled, drowning him in the chaos of his thoughts." 
> 
> Warning: Lots of fluff

The red rain was falling heavily as usual, it obscured Thorin Oakenshield’s view of the Orgen making their way along one of the few clear paths in the planet’s impenetrable jungle. Wallace had deliberately set the perimeter just upslope, any attack had to come that way. Thorin dialed through the settings on his scope, trying to find one that would give him a clearer view, he needed to know if this was a raiding party. When the group popped into sharp focus he studied each one carefully, looking for armor or weapons. The last one in the line looked clean, Thorin moved his scope to the next, hearing his earpiece chime. Kaylea’s ring.   
“What can I do for you, my love?” He said, glassing the Orgen carefully.   
“Good evening, husband,” the sound of her voice taking him away from the dismal jungle.   
“Mmmmm…I love it when you speak Khuzdul to me.”   
Kaylea chuckled. “Would you be very upset if I pulled rank to end your assignment early?”   
Thorin chuckled. “You mean leave this lovely garden spot?” He saw something on the second Orgen’s back, increasing magnification he saw it was a coil of rope wound around him.   
Kaylea seemed to sense his distraction. “If you are busy, I can call back.”   
“Don’t you dare. I pulled sentry duty, it is nothing I can’t do and talk to you at the same time.” He was certain now this was just a group of local villagers, but he continued to scope them carefully. “What’s up?”   
“We have been summoned. Well, I have been summoned and since the occasion requires and escort that means you have been summoned as well.”   
Thorin lowered his rifle, sitting back against the tree. “Yes, escort is not a role that I would have you assign to someone else.” He took a deep breath, summoned meant Blackwolf. His favorite Elven lord. “What is the occasion?”   
“I think I have told you he throws these random birthday parties for himself. It seems this is one of those years. I am required to attend, but usually they are decent parties. The guest list is always stellar.”  
“Did you tell him to expect the King and Queen of Erebor?”   
Kaylea laughed. “We will be representing the Sardaukar. Dress uniforms will be required.”   
Thorin smiled to himself, there was no way he was going to Troyius in a uniform. But that was a conversation they could have later. “How soon will I need to leave?”   
“In the next day or so,” Kaylea replied. “The orders are on the way. I will see you soon, husband.”   
“You are signing off already? So, I am just an escort to you,” he teased.   
“I am just laying here reading reports,” Kaylea answered. “We can talk as long as you want.”  
The thought of Kaylea laying in bed sent Thorin’s mind down a very pleasant path. “In bed…what are you wearing?” He could hear her indrawn breath.   
“Nothing at all,” she whispered softly. “What about you, husband?”   
Thorin closed his eyes, picturing her in his mind, listening to the heavy rain on the leaves around him. How he missed her! “Rainproof fatigues, armorskin, mud boots,” he chuckled softly. Suddenly he heard someone in the tree below him.   
“Hey, Erebor!” It was Wallace. “You’re relieved. Pack your kit, you are on the bounce in 30.”   
Thorin stood and shouldered his weapon. “It seems my orders have come through, my love. Stay right there, I will be with you soon.”   
“I will be waiting for you, my king,” Kaylea replied, her voice a soft purr. He heard the chime as she signed off. Wallace climbed onto the platform and Thorin headed down, looking forward to being dry for the first time in four months. 

“I am not wearing that.”   
Thorin held the dress up, admiring it. “As your King, I could compel you.”   
Kaylea gave him a dark look. “The invitation requires the presence of the commander of the Sardaukar, that means a dress uniform. For you, too.”   
Now it was Thorin’s turn to scowl. “I am your husband and the King of Erebor, I am not going to Troyius in a uniform and neither are you.” The long velvet dress had been hanging in Kaylea’s closet for some time and he was dying to see her in it. Floor length and long sleeved with Dwarven designs over the shoulders, he suspected she had it made for Erebor, but it would be perfect for this formal occasion. He was picturing it with the mithril spiderweb necklace he had made for her.   
Kaylea took a deep breath, knowing she should have expected this. With the history between him and Blackwolf she should have known Thorin would insist that they attend the party as King and Queen. But just as he had an image he wanted to uphold, so did she.   
“As your commanding officer, I could order you,” she told him.   
Thorin laid the dress on the bed and crossed his arms. “A king outranks a general, wife.”   
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, each daring the other to blink first. Kaylea knew she had to pick her battles with Thorin carefully, there were only so many he would let her win. And he was giving her the full majesty treatment, which was how she thought of it when Thorin started drawing his nobility around him like a cloak. When he played that card it was even harder to deny him. She decided to let him have this one, it was not important enough to fight over, it might even be fun to remind Blackwolf that he had at least one guest he did not outrank.   
“Very well, husband,” she told him. “But next time it is dress uniforms.” 

“General Kaylea Wolf and Lieutenant Thorin Oakenshield.”  
Thorin scowled at the aide who had addressed the room, that was not the way he had asked to be announced. Before he could speak, Kaylea nudged him in the side.   
“Let it go. This way it will be more of a surprise,” she whispered. When they stepped through the door and he saw the looks on the faces of the other party-goers Thorin found he had to agree. Everyone had looked up absently, many wondering who Thorin Oakenshield was, now they were all staring.   
Lord Blackwolf may have invited two soldiers to his party, instead he got a couple that would have outshined even the Emperor and Empress. Kaylea was a vision in her floor-length black dress, the gems of her necklace and circlet sparkling in the soft light. Thorin was dressed to match, in his long burgundy coat with countless gems worked into the embroidery and wide jewel-studded belt. His long hair and beard already turned heads in the Empire, having the most beautiful woman in the galaxy on his arm turned those stares into double-takes. There were about thirty people in attendance, standing or sitting in groups around the long room. Lord Blackwolf himself was nowhere in sight.   
They were in one of the few rooms of Blackwolf’s enormous keep that Thorin had seen before. A long, high-ceilinged hall, the outer wall transparent, with a balcony that looked out over the fjord and mountains beyond, the other walls decorated with priceless artworks and shelves of actual books, interspersed with startlingly beautiful figurines and pottery. It had an intentionally haphazard look to it. Thorin recognized a few of the faces, members of the Great Houses, vid stars, a couple heads of industrial conglomerates. He let Kaylea steer him around the room, introducing him, she got many questions about her jewelry, which Thorin was happy to answer, and he got the usual hungry stares from the women. Kaylea was getting used to it by now, thinking to herself that after a high-profile party like this Thorin just might set a new trend for the Empire’s men. A servant came by with drinks and they had just come around a large piece of statuary to the last sitting area when Thorin felt Kaylea stiffen beside him. It was very subtle, but he was so attuned to her now he could tell she had a serious shock. On the couches in front of them was a tall, dark-haired man in a black suit. He had the look of a Dorsai, but with something of an Exotic air about him, handsome and perfect. Thorin had seen enough of them now to know he was another of Blackwolf’s special projects, like Kaylea and the Graham brothers. Sitting with him was a Warrior Kzin, with the distinctive black facial stripes that marked him as an Ahk-Set. Just seeing them sitting there Thorin felt his nerves prickle, these two were dangerous. The man stood and walked up to Kaylea, he reached forward and took her hand in his and kissed it. Kaylea smiled slightly at him, she seemed frozen.   
“Kaylea, it has been too long,” he said, straightening up. “I must say, you look amazing. So, this is your husband?”   
Thorin was bristling, he did not stand for men touching his wife, and he wondered who this man was to her that she would permit it. He could see there was some unspoken understanding between them, some kind of history. Kaylea had her arm around his waist and was leaning on him, he could tell by her body language she wanted him to let it go. “Thorin, this is Liam Chaucer, he is an old friend,” she was saying. “Liam, may I present Thorin Oakenshield.”   
Liam bowed low to him. “I am honored to meet you,” he said gravely. Then looked from one to the other. “I must say, you two do not look like soldiers of the Sardaukar.”   
“In my country I am a King,” Thorin said evenly. “Kaylea is my Queen. It was my understanding this was a formal occasion.” He recognized the name, Chaucer and his Kzin partner were well-known weapons brokers, specializing in obtaining the rarest weapons and other artifacts.   
“I’m guessing you come from the same place Lord Blackwolf does,” Liam said lightly. “Just a guess, mind you. And if you ever want to move any of that jewelry, let me know.” He was about to go on when one of the industrialists approached and whispered that he needed a word.   
Kaylea turned her back on them, leaning on her husband’s arm. “I need a moment,” she whispered, stepping away from him toward the outer wall of the room. One of the panels moved aside and she stepped out onto the balcony. Thorin followed, curious and also concerned, he could see she was upset. Kaylea leaned on the railing, the view of the mountains was spectacular in the soft light of the summer evening, but she saw none of it. There was only one other couple outside, also admiring the view.   
Thorin put his arm around her, studying her face. “My love, who is that man to you?”  
Kaylea shook her head, looking down at the ocean fjord far below them. She did not answer right away, only leaned against him, hugging her arms, her face flushed with emotion. Thorin rubbed her back, waiting for her to speak, he was desperate to know what was wrong but didn’t want to push her.   
After a moment, Kaylea took a deep breath and straightened up. Thorin could see the steel return to her face as she put whatever emotions she was feeling aside. “I remember telling you a long time ago that I had been in love before,” she said. “And that one of them was a special, like me.”   
“Liam Chaucer is the one Blackwolf made for you?”   
Kaylea looked at him, astonished. “How do you know that?”   
“Blackwolf told me,” Thorin replied, remembering how amused her lord had been at his surprise. He looked back at the room behind them, Liam and his Kzin companion were deep in conversation with the businessman. He saw him look up in their direction and quickly look away. There were so many questions Thorin wanted to ask, he felt as if a sea of emotion was swelling around him, threatening to drown him in the chaos of his thoughts. It seemed clear Kaylea still had some kind of feelings for this man, what did that mean? Did she still love him? Thorin knew his wife, he knew the love between them was strong, but had seeing this other man awakened something? The fear that he might lose her almost overwhelmed him. Thorin took a few deep breaths himself, trying to still his mind.   
“I need you to tell me about him, my love,” Thorin said softly. “Because you are scaring me right now.”  
Kaylea turned toward him, she put her hand on his cheek. “You have nothing to worry about, my king. Everything between Liam and me is in the past. I have not seen him in a very long time, it hit me a lot harder than I thought it would, that is all.”   
Thorin smiled at her, putting his hand over hers. He wasn’t reassured. “I need you to tell me, my love.”   
Kaylea sighed deeply, looking at the fjord below. “It was a long time ago, during the Man-Kzin Wars. I had an idea on a way to end the conflict in a way both sides could declare a win, Liam was my contact for Kzin. He had been doing business with them for years, he had an in with the Ahk-Sets.” She paused, leaning against her husband, her eyes far away. “As soon as we saw each other, we just knew. It wasn’t until much later that I learned from Blackwolf he had made Liam specifically for me, that was why he felt so right, he was designed that way. And that was the beginning of the end for us.”   
Thorin gave her a puzzled look. “Because it was right, you could not stay together? That makes no sense.”   
Kaylea smiled. “When I met you, it was different. It immediately felt right, but not in the same way.” She paused, trying to find the words. “With Liam I felt like I didn’t have a choice, and neither did he. Since we are both people who don’t like being told what to do, it just never sat right with either of us, ultimately it was the reason we went our separate ways. We have remained friends in a way, but it was a surprise to see him after all this time, stirred up some feelings I did not know were still there.” She shook her head again. “I am sorry, husband. I should not have reacted that way.”   
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Thorin told her. “That is on Blackwolf for inviting him. He knew I would be here, I’m sure he thought it would be amusing. Or that seeing this man again would make you forsake your Dwarf.” He looked at her reproachfully. “I hope he is not right.”   
Kaylea turned towards him, sliding her arms around him. “If he thinks I will ever leave you, he is sadly mistaken. Seeing Liam again did give me a shock, I admit that. But it only to reminded me how lucky I am to have you, my Dwarf King.” Thorin pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, he knew they were probably being watched but he could care less. He wanted this Liam Chaucer and everybody else to see, this was his wife and he would fight for her to the last breath in his body. He still wanted to know the rest of the story, but that could wait. After a moment he took her arm and walked her back into the drawing room to the sound of scattered applause from the other guests.   
“That kiss was amazing!” One of the vid stars exclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind I recorded it,” she pointed to her eyes that contained tiny implanted cameras. Before Thorin could ask what was so amazing, the door opened and the uniformed aide stepped into the room.   
“Lord Blackwolf of Troyius.”  
Everyone turned toward the door and dropped to one knee or curtsied low as the great Lord swept into the room. Except Thorin, who remained standing. Kaylea started to kneel, but Thorin caught her elbow.   
“You kneel to no one,” he told her sharply, pulling her to her feet. Blackwolf was wearing his usual smartly tailored dark blue suit with the long jacket. His hair was in a more Elvish style than usual, two braids along his temples that met at the back, and an elaborate silver clasp. He glared at Thorin over the heads of the other guests, Thorin scowled back. I don’t kneel to you, little man.   
Blackwolf made his way across the room, nodding to his guests until he stood before Thorin and Kaylea. Thorin had been in the presence of the great Elven lords of Middle Earth, but Blackwolf eclipsed any of them. Glorfindel came close, but even he did not have such an aura of concealed power, this lord was clearly the greatest of them all. He looked at the two of them disapprovingly.   
“I do not remember inviting the King and Queen of Erebor,” he said in Elvish, causing the other guests nearby to tap their translators. It was not one of the languages of the Empire.   
“Yet you addressed the invitation to Kaylea Wolf, and who would she choose to accompany her besides her husband?” Thorin replied in the same language.   
Blackwolf’s face remained impassive, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “I understood her husband was on assignment.”   
Thorin heard the hiss of Kaylea’s indrawn breath. He had to shake his head, even after nearly a hundred years and speaking their wedding vows three times, Blackwolf still thought he could manipulate his daughter into leaving her King. That was why Liam Chaucer was here, because Thorin was not supposed to be. He could feel his anger rising, a number of perfect Khuzdul replies jumped into his mind, but he swallowed his tongue. Taking a deep breath, he smiled at the Elf.  
“There are a number of things I could say,” he said expansively. “Since it is your birthday, I will not let you drag me down to your level.”   
Blackwolf met his eyes for a long moment, one eyebrow slightly raised and that suggestion of a smile on his face. It was as much emotion as he ever showed. Then he abruptly turned to address the room. “It is time to go in to dinner,” he said. As he spoke a doorway opened in the wall, revealing a long table formally set, servants waiting along the sides. The lord strode forward, his guests following, singly and in pairs.  
“Do you have any idea how much I hate that beardless asshole?” Thorin knew Kaylea had eaten at the same table as his wife more than once, now it was up to him to return the favor. He looked sideways at his wife. She was clearly trying not to laugh and gave him a girlish smile he found meltingly adorable. “Shall we?” He asked, offering her his arm.   
Kaylea folded her arm through his and leaned close to speak in his ear. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”   
Thorin smiled back. “Of course I do.”


	6. First Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The writing prompt for this one:   
>  "Gone was the timid child they once knew, and in her shoes stood a determined woman."   
> This scene immediately popped into my head and I wrote it straight through in a couple hours. I enjoyed writing this one, I may have to expand on the relationship between these two.

Coming back into the cool of Erebor from her early morning run Kaylea Wolf caught a glimpse of motion as she passed the hall to the training room. She stopped to look and saw it was Thorin’s daughter Freya, hesitantly swinging a sword much too big for her. She was practicing the moves Kaylea had been teaching her brothers the day before. The girl had been coming to watch her brothers train, but would never participate, firmly shaking her head whenever Kaylea asked her. Kaylea could not quite make out whether she really did not want to train, or was only doing what her mother told her. Freya would sit patiently in her beautiful dresses and watch her brothers, petting Hector and feeding the big wolf little bits of meat she had carefully saved for him.   
Kaylea moved down the hall, keeping to the shadows between the archways. This was obviously not the first time Freya had practiced with a sword, and the girl had been paying attention. She must have been coming to practice on her own, when she could wear a simpler dress and not worry about her brothers making fun of her. Kaylea did not know the girl well, this was only the second time she had met her, but she could see she had the determination of her father. She was doing a side parry when she spotted Kaylea in the hall and gasped, dropping her weapon.   
“Never give up your weapon, your highness,” Kaylea told her, with a smile. She stepped into the training circle and picked up the sword, presenting it back to the young girl with a formal bow. “If you want to learn, I am happy to teach you alone, you only needed to ask.”   
Freya blushed bright red, hesitantly taking the sword from the tall warrior woman. Ever since the first time she met her she had secretly wanted to be like Kaylea Wolf. A great warrior, unafraid of anything, beautiful and independent and strong, riding off to great adventures on her black horse with the wolf at her side. But her mother told her such things were not for princesses, she must spend her days learning proper manners, having dresses fitted, on weaving and embroidery. She must learn how to be a proper wife.   
Kaylea stepped back to a fighting stance. “Attack.”   
Freya looked at her in surprise. “You do not have a sword!”   
Kaylea smiled slyly. “I do not need one.” She started moving slowly to one side, Freya moved with her as she had seen her brothers do. She had watched Kaylea spar with her father and members of his guard, but had never seen her do it without a weapon. She stepped forward, swinging her sword.   
Kaylea stepped and caught her wrist effortlessly. “I said attack!” She repeated, staring hard into the girl’s eyes. “Now, come at me.” She stepped back, circling the opposite direction. Freya took a deep breath and mirrored her, not really sure how to look for an opening. She moved forward quickly and swung her sword as hard as she could. She saw the warrior woman move and catch her arm, before she knew what was happening, she landed heavily on her back, Kaylea standing over her with the sword.   
“That was much better,” Kaylea said, offering her a hand up.   
Freya stood and brushed her dress off, blushing again, how had she done that? She had no idea you could fight without a weapon. Kaylea was offering her the sword back, this time she shook her head. “I should get back. Mother says training with weapons is not ladylike.”   
Kaylea chuckled softly. “I think you can guess what I think of that, your highness. Of course, I do not fit your mother’s definition of ladylike.” She set the sword back in the rack and turned to face Freya across the circle. “I would say every woman should learn how to defend herself, one day soon you will be fighting off suitors.”   
Now Freya laughed. “I doubt that!”   
“Well, I suppose they do have to make it past your father first,” she replied. Freya was already a great beauty, with her mother’s features and dark hair, and her father’s eyes and charisma, she was probably already breaking hearts at twelve. But Kaylea could only imagine what kind of hell Thorin was going to put any potential suitor through.   
“The Queen does have a point,” Kaylea told her. “The way you have to dress does not make a sword your best weapon. I remember telling you I would teach you to use that knife I gave you. Or, I can show you how to fight without a weapon, as I just did.”   
Freya blinked at her. “Can you show me what you just did?” She knew she would catch hell from her mother if she was caught training with Kaylea, but she was so curious.   
“First, we should start with some basics,” Kaylea told her. She took the girl through a few basic holds and throws, working up to the disarm she had used. Freya picked it up the concepts quickly, she seemed to surprise herself at how easily she could throw an opponent to the ground just by using the correct leverage, even when they were as tall as Kaylea. She had run through the sequence Kaylea used a few times and had just dropped the warrior to the ground when she looked up to see Thorin leaning on the doorway, arms crossed, a somewhat bemused expression on his face.   
Freya immediately dropped the sword and curtsied low. Kaylea hopped to her feet then quickly took a knee.  
“What are you teaching my daughter?” Thorin asked her in mock seriousness, stepping forward to take her hand and draw her to her feet, a sly smile playing over his lips.   
“Just some self-defense, your majesty,” Kaylea replied. “A few things every pretty girl should know.”   
Thorin looked at his daughter, shifting her feet nervously, looking at the floor. “Show me.”   
Freya stared at her father, astonished. Kaylea picked up the sword and handed it to Thorin. “What did I tell you about holding on to your weapon, your highness?” She asked, then gave her a smile of encouragement. “Go ahead, you know the moves.”   
Thorin held the sword out towards his daughter, Kaylea could see the girl was terrified but she held her ground. He stepped forward, swinging the sword half-speed. Freya blocked the strike well but was too hesitant to get the disarm right and Thorin knocked her to the ground. He was not entirely sure he wanted his daughter to be a sword maiden, though he did not mind Kaylea teaching her a few things, he wanted her to know weapons training was not easy.   
“Again!” Kaylea told her. “You cannot hesitate. Block, step, throw, disarm. You can do it!”   
Freya climbed to her feet and faced him. Again, Thorin knocked her down. The girl was on her hands and knees staring at the floor, tears of fear and frustration in her eyes. Kaylea could see Thorin was about to go and comfort her and quickly stepped in, waving him back. She knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.   
“You know how to do this,” she told her softly. “You are a daughter of Durin, are you going to let a man defeat you? Show me you can do it.”   
Freya looked up at her, she could see Kaylea really believed she could do it. Taking a deep breath she stood and faced her father, her face focused and grim, trying to picture herself as the fearless warrior Kaylea was. She told herself she could face an opponent with the same courage as any son of Durin. She moved along the edge of the circle, watching him closely. Thorin took a few steps, then attacked, much faster this time. Freya moved inside his stroke, blocking his arm and grabbing his wrist, then stepped forward and shifted her weight to throw him down, stripping the sword from his grasp. In the moment she stood over him with the sword, Thorin saw the timid girl he had known vanish. In her place was a determined young woman.   
Kaylea was clapping. “Perfect!”   
Freya stepped back and gave her father a hand to his feet. She did not blush or look flustered this time, just proud of herself. Thorin gave her a hug, smiling widely. “That was well done, my girl!” He leaned back and gave her a conspiratorial look. “Now, you had better go clean up before your mother finds you.”   
“Can Kaylea teach me again?” She asked hopefully, looking at the tall woman.   
“Of course,” the King replied. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Now, go on.” She hugged her father hard, then hurried to leave. She remembered to bow formally to Kaylea, as she had seen her brothers do, then handed her the sword. Thorin watched her run down the hall, a father’s pride plain on his face.   
“I do not mind if you want to teach her a few things, but Shurri will have your head if she finds out,” he said to Kaylea. She smiled at him.   
“Are you going to tell on me, my king?”   
“What do I get if I keep quiet?” Thorin asked mischievously, pulling her against him. Before he could even make a move Kaylea had thrown him to the ground and was sitting on his stomach. She leaned forward until her face was inches from his, her braids brushing the sides of his neck.   
“How about a private lesson?”


	7. An Unexpected Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another piece from the writing challenge I am participating in on Tumblr. This scene has been in my head for awhile. 
> 
> Warnings: It's never a good idea to get on a horse you don't know ;-)

In the grey hours before dawn Freya slipped out of her room and made her way cautiously through the corridors of Erebor toward the stables. All was quiet in the city at this hour, except for the distant rumble of the stamp mill and the hum of the forges. She knew it would be a few hours before her handmaids arrived to help her prepare for her day, plenty of time. Her father’s mistress, Kaylea Wolf, had arrived the day before and Freya wanted give her horse an apple she had saved from the kitchen. The princess had her own pony and had become an accomplished rider, but she wanted a real horse, and Kaylea always rode beautiful horses; black, tall and clean-limbed, with long manes and kind eyes.   
A group of servants crossed the corridor in front of her, some of the kitchen staff on their way to start their work. Freya pressed herself into the shadows beside an archway, hoping she would not be noticed. She was wearing her brother Thror’s old training clothes she had rescued from a pile he was throwing away. The soft trousers and jacket were easy to move in and if she wore them in the stables she would not have to explain to her mother why her dress was dirty. The Queen encouraged her to ride her pony, but did not care for her habit of lingering in the stables to pet the cats and give treats to the stable dogs.

As she entered the breezeway Kaylea’s warhorse stepped to the front of his stall to look at her curiously. Unlike the other horses and ponies, the door to his stall was always left open so he could come and go as he pleased. Freya remembered being so jealous when she saw Kaylea stand at the bridge in front of Erebor and whistle for her horse. Having spent many frustrating hours trying to catch her pony when he was out in the pasture, she was so envious of the warrior woman who had a horse that came when she called.   
Freya dug in her pockets for the apple as she walked to the horse’s stall. She stroked the side of his head and neck as he took the pieces from her hand. Standing in front of him now she had a real sense of how large the horse was, almost twice as tall as her pony. But he did not frighten her, he seemed very calm and gentle, like he was somehow reassuring her as she smoothed his mane. Freya had heard Kaylea call him Tiberius.   
“Hello Tiberius,” she said. “I am Freya, daughter of Thorin, princess of Erebor. And I wish you were my horse.”   
The warhorse lowered his head, Freya leaned against him, laying her head on his forehead. She closed her eyes and imagined she was Kaylea Wolf, riding this beautiful horse across Middle Earth, having amazing adventures, fighting orcs and goblins, visiting the lands of the Elves. Freya knew that could never be her life, princesses had responsibilities and were expected to behave in a certain way. She knew her father was going against his own better judgement by letting her train with Kaylea when she was here. But she desperately wanted to see the distant lands of Middle Earth, to ride a horse so tall and fast.   
Tiberius gently pushed her with his nose and she stepped back. She watched in amazement as he folded his front legs under him and lowered his head, as if inviting her to climb on his back. Had he somehow known what she was thinking? She grabbed a handful of his mane and climbed up, surely there was no harm in sitting on him in the stable for a few minutes. As the horse stood Freya looked down, seeing the ground very far away. She leaned forward over the horse’s neck, feeling the warmth from his body. What it must be like to ride a horse like this!  
Without warning Tiberius walked out of his stall and started down the corridor toward the gate. Freya felt a hard stab of fear and grabbed hold of the horse’s mane.   
“No, no! Where are you going?” She tugged on his mane, hoping it would somehow make him stop. “Let me down!”   
The horse glanced back at her but did not stop. She looked ahead at the guards opening the side gate for the horse, now she was afraid she would be seen. She was not supposed to be out of her room at this hour, her mother would be furious, and she had no idea what Kaylea was going to think about her riding her horse without permission. Freya lay down hugging the horse’s back, hoping her dark clothes would conceal her. As Tiberius walked through the gate Freya saw the guards not even looking at him, talking among themselves.   
Once outside the walls of the city the horse moved into an effortless, reaching trot, then a swift canter. The princess could not believe how smooth his gait was, so much easier to ride than her pony, she had no trouble keeping her seat. The land was just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn, looking ahead Freya found her fears falling away. She held tight to the horse’s mane, gripping his sides with her legs, feeling the wind in her face, the smell of dew on the ground, she felt completely free from her life of lessons and fancy dresses. Tiberius turned to the north heading for the slopes of the mountain, Freya hoped he would not go too far before returning to the stable but she really had no way to control him. He had seemed to know she wanted to ride him, and right now he seemed to be enjoying himself, Freya felt his strides begin to lengthen into a gallop, fairly flying over the rocky ground. She could not believe his speed; she had no idea anything could move so fast. The horse slowed as he reached the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, trotting up a narrow, winding path to a wide level meadow with a good view of the vale before Erebor and the city of Dale. The sky was turning pink now, the dawn was not far off. The princess looked out at the valley below, her heart pounding from the excitement of the gallop. She wanted to get back to the stable before she got in trouble, but she also wanted to keep riding as far as this horse would take her. 

She heard something behind them and Tiberius wheeled around. Freya saw nothing at first, then spotted a warg in the rocks on the other side of the meadow. He was watching the horse closely, no doubt waiting for it to run so he could give chase. Tiberius stood his ground, watching the animal closely. Freya was frozen with fear, she had her knife with her but had never really fought with it, and could not imagine it would be much use against a warg in any case. The warg moved forward, trying unsuccessfully to spook the horse, then hesitated; he had spotted the Dwarf girl on the horse’s back. The creature lunged forward, now intent on the girl. Tiberius jumped sideways, lashing out with his front feet and landing a hard blow on the warg’s side, but his strike came too late, the creature was able to reach up and just catch Freya’s foot with his teeth.   
The girl landed hard on her back, she saw stars but was already pulling out her knife. She could hear Kaylea’s voice in her head, don’t hesitate, don’t let yourself be defeated! Kaylea had made her practice over and over, drawing her knife and stabbing, drawing her knife and slashing, until she could almost do it in her sleep. The warrior had drilled into her that she should never be without a knife, that one day it could save her life. She opened her eyes to see the wargs face right over hers, she put up her arm to block its jaws and stabbed for its eye as hard as she could. The creature howled in pain and she stabbed at it again, her knife going deep into its skull, then suddenly the warg went sprawling. Tiberius had sent the animal flying with a kick then wheeled and leaped to bring both hooves down on its head. Freya watched amazed as the horse pounded the warg’s head nearly flat with repeated blows, she had never considered that a horse could fight. Shaking his dark mane, the warhorse came over to check on her, sniffing and nuzzling her with his soft lips, she could almost feel his concern.   
“I am alright,” she told the black horse. “Thank you. Can we please go home now?” She stood up unsteadily, her whole body shaking. She looked at her knife, the dark blood on the blade. Had she really just done that? Actually stabbed a warg? She wiped her knife on her trousers and carefully put it away. It surprised her she did not feel scared, just a bit proud of herself. Kaylea had given her the blade when she was a little girl, the amazing steel from her land that never needed sharpening, and the handle made from the tooth of a dragon. She was glad that Kaylea’s lessons had made carrying it with her second nature, it really had saved her life, but she realized now her mother had not been exaggerating the dangers of the Wild. 

Freya’s heart had finally stopped pounding and she was enjoying her ride again as they approached the bridge to Erebor. She was feeling much more comfortable on the big horse, wishing now they had kept going instead of turning back. The sun was just up, the walls of Erebor lit with golden light. As she came closer the girl saw two figures standing by the bridge, her heart sank to her toes when she saw it was her father and Kaylea. One of the gate guards must have seen her. She could not even imagine how much trouble she was in, the King was going to send her to her room for a month. Tiberius walked up to Kaylea, she rubbed his head then lifted Freya down off his back. Thorin was frowning at her, but he stepped forward and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly.   
“You had me very worried, girl! You should know better than to disappear like that. I am glad you are alright,” he leaned back to look at her and a shadow passed over his face. He wiped her cheek. “Is this blood?”   
Freya nodded. She wanted to just hug her father again, he always made her feel safe, but she knew she better explain herself. Feeling their eyes on her, she shifted nervously, looking down at her feet, then she heard Kaylea’s voice in her head: Always stand up straight and speak clearly. Remember you are a daughter of Durin. She took a deep breath, drew herself up and looked from Kaylea to her father. “I apologize, I did not intend to take your horse, I just wanted to sit on his back. He walked out of the stable and I could not stop him. He took me up the side of the mountain and we ran into a warg. It pulled me off the horse and I stabbed it when it attacked me, then Tiberius killed it.”   
Thorin’s eyes went wide, but Kaylea stepped over and clapped a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Good for you! You have been paying attention in my lessons! You must show me what you did later, but for now you should get cleaned up before your mother finds out you have been gone.” She winked at the princess. “Maybe I will give you some riding lessons later.”   
Freya looked at her father, waiting for him to pronounce her punishment. For a fleeting moment he looked about to smile then his face settled into its familiar scowl. “These are dangerous times, it was very foolish of you to venture out of Erebor alone. Until I say different, if you are not eating a meal or at your lessons you are to be in your rooms. I will have your tutors assign you extra work.” He gave Kaylea a dark look. “And no riding lessons, unless it is on a pony.”   
“She is safer with Tiberius than any pony,” Kaylea replied, matter-of-factly. “But no more riding him without permission.”   
Freya curtsied to the King and started across the bridge, knowing she had not yet heard the end of this. She turned when she was halfway across and saw Thorin standing very close to Kaylea, they were talking softly. Freya wished the warrior woman would come to Erebor more often, it was the only time she ever saw her father happy. The two of them seemed as if they were made for each other somehow. As she watched, the King reached out and grasped Kaylea’s hand, his fingers interlacing with hers in a perfect fit. Hearing the sound of seven bells, the princess turned back toward the city, if she hurried, she could be back in her rooms before her handmaids arrived. Silently, she promised Tiberius she would bring him another apple later, he deserved it.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been wanting to write about what The Warrior and The King do when they are apart, I was able to work it into the writing challenge I am currently doing. This takes place after the events in The Warrior and The King - Book II. 
> 
> The prompt for this one was: "Why...?"

I. EREBOR

Thorin Oakenshield realized he had no idea how long he had been standing in his closet and he still had not picked out anything to wear. He had been going through his shirts absently, thinking about Kaylea Wolf. They had parted on the road seven days ago, he to return to Erebor, she heading south to her homeland. They had just spent months together in Lothlorien and, much as Thorin hated to admit it, he had been blissfully happy there. Time seemed to pass differently in that fair land, he felt as if he had been away for years. He had a glimpse now of what his life with Kaylea would be like, if he could ever persuade her to stay. It had made their parting even harder, every day he woke up expecting her to be there, imagining her scent when he turned over in his bed. But she was gone, and he knew not when she would return.   
Thorin grabbed some clothes at random and dressed. Walking into his sitting room he found himself still half-expecting Kaylea to be there. In the mornings she was often sitting at the table drinking her strong Dorsai coffee, her black wolf watching him as he moved around the room. Looking at the empty chairs he knew he could no longer imagine his life without her. The nights were the hardest, images came unbidden to his mind. Her naked body over him illuminated in the firelight, the taste of her sex, the way her golden hair fell over her shoulders, the feel of her nails on his back. The last time it had taken almost a year for the memories to fade and become manageable, before he had stopped waking up in the middle of the night desperate for her. Thorin shook his head, knowing it would not help to think about such things. The Queen was due to return to Erebor today, and with her was his new son.   
Though Thorin still wished he could have made Kaylea his queen, he knew marrying Shurri had been the right decision. Kaylea had correctly argued he needed an heir of pure Dwarven blood, and now he had two. There was not much love between him and his wife, but she been the perfect queen in many ways, beautiful and generous and smart; it was not required that they love each other, only that they play their roles. His son had proven to be one of the chief joys of his life, he could not wait to meet his newest child.   
The King breathed deeply as he walked the corridors of Erebor, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. The tall stone halls, the hum of the forges, the cool air flowing through the arches, the sounds of commerce from the floor of the Hall of Kings. After so long away, it was good to be home. Gloin and Balin were waiting for him the converted guardroom near the gate he still used as an office. Though his official one was much larger and more impressive, this room had a window, looking out at the vale before the gate illuminated in the morning light.   
The two Dwarves bowed to him. “Good morning, your majesty,” Balin said. As usual, he was holding a sheaf of papers, the day’s business for Thorin to review.   
“When is the Queen due to arrive?” Thorin asked, really not feeling like looking at a bunch of documents today, but such were the responsibilities of a king.   
“Should be here about midday,” Balin replied. “I know you are only two days back from your journey, but it really is time to start going over what has been going on since you left.”   
Thorin rolled his eyes. “You are right, of course. I will look at them until the Queen gets here, then I want to see my sons.” He took a seat at the desk and Balin and Gloin started going over the contracts and production numbers. Fili came in before an hour had passed, he had been acting as regent while the King was gone and expected to be explaining his decisions to his uncle, but Thorin was mostly silent. It was clear his mind was elsewhere. While Gloin was talking his gaze often wandered out the window, a far-away look in his eyes.   
“Are you listening, laddie?” Balin finally demanded.  
“Of course,” Thorin scowled at him. Actually, his mind had been engaged in a very pleasant reverie about Kaylea, he had stopped listening some time ago.   
“How much are the Men of Rohan paying us for the next two shipments of steel?”   
“You expect me to remember that?”   
Balin gave him a reproachful look. “Perhaps the King would like a few more days before resuming the business of the realm?”   
Thorin glowered at him, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “A few days is not going to help,” he said heavily. “Maybe a few years.”  
Balin shook his head at him. “I wish you would give that woman up, make a new start with Shurri. The two of you are well matched.”   
Thorin scoffed. “The fact we are both in love with other people was the only reason she agreed to marry me in the first place.” He stood up. “I am going for a walk. I am in no mood for your paperwork.” Thorin paused next to Balin, leaning into the old Dwarf. “Know this: I will not give her up. Kaylea Wolf will be Queen of Erebor one day, mark my words.”   
Fili and Balin glanced at each other as Thorin went out the door. “Is he serious?” Gloin asked.   
“Yes, I am afraid he is,” Balin said as he put his papers in order. “The bond between those two runs very deep. Whatever happened on this journey they took together has made it stronger still.”   
Gloin made a disapproving noise. “But to make a Human woman the Queen of Erebor! Does he want us to be the laughing stock of the Seven Kingdoms?”   
Fili had to smile. “Well, my uncle has always walked his own path, I do not think he gives a copper coin what the other families think.” He looked from Balin to Gloin. “I doubt either of you would dispute Kaylea Wolf would be an amazing queen. His succession is already assured, why not marry his warrior woman?”   
“You are as bad as he is!” Gloin muttered, shaking his head.

When he heard the Queen’s carriage was on the road Thorin hurried down to the gate to meet it. His eldest son climbed down almost before it had stopped, running into his father’s waiting arms.   
Thorin picked the boy up, hugging him close. “Who are you?” He teased. “You cannot be Thror, you are much too tall!”   
“Put me down!” Thror squirmed in his father’s hug, old enough now to be embarrassed.   
The King chuckled at the boy, setting him back on the ground. He had only been half-teasing, he could not believe how much the boy had grown in the year he had been gone. Thror had always taken after his mother, but it looked like he would be tall, like all the sons of Durin. Thorin stepped up to give Shurri a hand down from the carriage. She was carrying their new son in her arms, the boy was sleeping peacefully.   
“Do not wake him,” she told the King as she placed the baby in his arms. Thorin smiled down at the tiny boy, feeling a deep and immediate love for him that almost overwhelmed him.   
“He has your eyes,” Shurri said quietly. “I think he is going to be very like you.” She glanced up at him, her violet eyes smiling. “He will be a great king one day, we must give him a name worthy of his destiny.”   
Thorin met her gaze, finding himself surprised that something so beautiful and perfect could come from two people who really did not like each other very much. He rocked the baby gently, holding him tight against his body, he felt so warm in his arms.   
“We will call him Durin.” 

II. DORSAI

Kaylea Wolf woke to the feel of warm breath on her arm. Hector was standing beside the bed, regarding her expectantly with his yellow eyes. She must have drifted off. Rolling on her back, she reached out to find only empty space beside her. She had been dreaming of Thorin, her mind was filled with his rich, earthy scent, the feel of his body against hers. Then the reality set in that he was light years away, and she did not know when she would see him again.   
She got up and let her wolf out, then went through the motions of showering and getting dressed, trying to keep her mind off the emptiness that threatened to consume her. Tomorrow she would be on a carrier to the Dubari front, she reviewed the recent troop movements and blockade positions of the cruisers in her mind. But it was not long before Thorin was once again intruding on her thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes he was there. His soft smile and sensuous hair, his lips on her skin, the feel of him between her legs, his soft beard against her neck. The first time she left him it had been hard, this time it was worse. The months they had spent together had cemented the bond between them, now without him she felt lonelier than she had ever been. 

Kaylea made her way down to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She had brought her tablet, but found herself too distracted read dispatches from the front. She left her device in the kitchen and let herself out the side door, onto the wide, stone balcony. The Tor was enveloped in a heavy, drifting fog this morning, occasionally it would lift enough to glimpse the water in the fjord below. Kaylea could hear the waves on the rocks, the distant cries of seabirds. She inhaled the steam from her cup, feeling it sharpen her awareness. It was a measure of the wealth of House Graham that they could afford to put boosterspice in their coffee, giving it the aroma of cinnamon, and the extra energy that came from the spice. Thorin had developed a taste for it in their time together. Kaylea knew her coffee was probably the reason he continued to grow younger, since he was hypersensitive to the effects of the spice, but she secretly hoped it would help him live a couple hundred more years.   
Thinking about Thorin took her thoughts back to Erebor, she fingered the chain he had given her, wondering what he was doing now. Probably driving Balin crazy. Shurri should be back from the Grey Mountains by now, with the new prince. Kaylea heard the door open behind her, Kensie’s step on the stone. She realized she was playing with the ring Thorin had given her and quickly dropped the chain into the neck of her shirt.   
“Credit for your thoughts?” Her brother asked as he came up beside her, sipping at his coffee.   
Kaylea shook her head. “Just thinking about the Dubari.”   
“No, you’re not,” Kensie said matter-of-factly, studying his sister. “Try again.”   
“Alright,” Kaylea replied with a smile. Her brother knew her too well, she had to tell him some part of the truth. “Just wishing I could have stayed longer in Middle Earth.”   
“Why….?”   
Kaylea was silent for a long time, Kensie drank his coffee and waited. He had never seen his sister like this, she seemed lost. The last time she came back from Middle Earth it was clear she had left her heart behind. She would not speak about it, but she had come back with that chain and different braids in her hair. Kensie knew she had good reasons to stay silent, so he had not pushed her, but that did not mean he wasn’t curious. Kaylea usually avoided romantic entanglements, who had changed that? What had happened this time while she was gone?  
“There is going to be a war there soon. One that will decide the fate of the land,” Kaylea said finally. She took a deep breath. “I remember you telling me once that Catherine is the great love of your life. How did you know?”   
“You are not answering my question,” Kensie said. He was quiet for a moment. “Alright, I’ll play. The answer is I didn’t know, not in those terms. I knew I couldn’t live without her, I knew when I was with her I couldn’t stop smiling and when she was gone it was like ripping myself in half.” He looked sideways at Kaylea. “Sound like anyone you know?”   
Kaylea shrugged. “No, just something I was thinking about,” she lied.   
Kensie smiled and stepped closer, he put his arm around his sister’s shoulders, pulling her against him. “You know I can keep your secrets. Anytime you want to talk, I am here.”   
“I’ll remember that, the next time I have something to talk about.” She turned to face her brother. “Time to get back to work.”   
Kensie chuckled. He hooked a finger under the spectacular mithril chain she was wearing. “A gift like this is not lightly given,” he said. “I can see it is Dwarven work, which makes me doubly curious. I know it was not some lord of the Woodland Realm who gave you this. Was it some prince of Dale? Or a Ranger from the North? And what token do you wear on it?” Kaylea’s face was unreadable, but Kensie had seen a flicker of reaction when he made a reference to Dwarves. Interesting. He drained his cup, waiting for his sister to speak, but she remained silent. With a wry smile he turned to go back into the keep, then leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I can’t wait to meet him.”


	9. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short little scene that has been in my head for a long time. Since I had no idea what to do with the writing challenge prompt this week, it seemed like a good time to write it out. 
> 
> The prompt: "The screams echoed around the room creating a cacophony of emotion."

“How did you get this?”  
Thorin traced the edges of the strange scar on her side with his fingers, the star-like pattern had puzzled him since the first time he saw it. It had to be from some edged weapon, but it also looked like a burn. Kaylea shifted to look at him, she reached to touch his shoulder.   
“Will you tell me about yours?” She asked.   
Thorin took a deep breath, stroking her side thoughtfully. “There is a lot of pain in the story.” He lay back, bending his elbow to prop his head on his hand, surveying her naked body in the firelight, his feet tucked under the pillows by her head. He loved to look at her in this light, the way it softened her curves. She was so like a cat, lithe and beautiful and dangerous. His warrior woman. “There is another question I want to ask,” he said. “You treated my wounds with your medicines and they left not a mark, why do you have scars?”   
Kaylea rolled onto her side resting her head on her hand, mirroring him, her golden hair falling forward over her breasts. “I could heal them if I wanted to,” she said. “I keep the scars to remember the lessons.” She ran her thumb over the place where the lance had pierced his side, her eyes traveling over his body. He had gained some weight since he had been King of Erebor, but his muscles were still well defined. These were some of her favorite moments with Thorin, after their initial passion was spent, the intimacy between them made her feel as if everything was right in the world. She was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to tell the story about her injury in a way he could understand.   
“In a country close to mine are creatures called the Hive,” she smiled at Thorin’s puzzled face. “The only way I can describe them is to say they look like giant insects, many legs, armored bodies, they have powerful stings and jaws.”   
“Like the spiders of Mirkwood,” Thorin made a face at the memory. That was something he would never forget.   
“Larger than those, and much faster, but yes,” Kaylea replied. “I had been told never to fight one close, hand to hand. But one cannot always choose the field of battle, and when I did face one it was a fight for my life. It feels like the thing is coming at you from all sides, legs, jaws, tail. But I got inside and dealt a killing strike, and that was when it screamed. I had never heard one make noise, they are always completely silent. That sound…,” her voice trailed off for a moment, then she shook her head. “It is the most amazing cacophony of sound, deafeningly loud, echoing in your head like every conceivable emotion at once.” She looked at Thorin with a wry smile. “I froze and it stung me. Their stinger has four blades and is coated with a caustic slime that burns on contact, it can penetrate almost any armor. Even I tiny dose of their venom can kill. You do not ever want to be stung by a Hive soldier.”   
Thorin’s face was grave. “You were badly hurt.”   
Kaylea shrugged. “Yes, I almost died, but help was close by. I learned my lesson: never freeze. I keep the scar to remind me.”  
Thorin shook his head, he could not believe how casually she could talk about nearly dying, and a burn like that must have been incredibly painful. She spoke as if it was something that happened to her every day, and maybe it did. He ran his fingers down her leg. “I am glad you survived to return to Middle Earth,” he said, smiling. “I hate to imagine my life if I had never met you.”   
Kaylea chuckled. She nodded toward his shoulder, where he had an elaborate tattoo to cover his old wound. The flesh had healed with a crease in the muscle, but the ink made it almost unnoticeable unless the light was right. “Your turn,” she said.   
Thorin rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. It had been many years, but the events of that day were burned into his mind in such detail he remembered it as if it was yesterday.   
“It was at the battle of Azanulbizar. I am sure you have heard the story, how my grandfather Thror led an army to reclaim the kingdom of Moira and a great battle was fought there between the Seven Armies of the Dwarves and the orc host of Moria.” Thorin was silent for a moment, then he went on. “The orc chieftain Azog came forth from the gates of Moria and slew my grandfather with a single stroke, I jumped to avenge him. The battle was hard fought, and the orc dealt me a blow with his mace that split my shield and nearly broke my arm, giving me this wound. I picked up a piece of oak to defend myself, and fought the rest of the day with it.” Thorin opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. “It was surprisingly useful; I could use it as a club as well as a shield.”   
“Oakenshield,” Kaylea said, smiling. “I had not heard this part of the story, I always wondered why you were called that. And the orc?”   
“I dealt him what I thought was a mortal blow, until I saw him again at the Battle of the Five Armies.” Thorin looked at her, his eyes full of sadness. “I lost both my father and my grandfather on that day,” he said. “Every time someone uses that name I remember, I do not need the scar to remind me, that is why I covered it up.”   
Kaylea moved around to lay beside him, sliding her arm across his chest. “I am sorry to bring up a painful memory,” she said, hugging him close. Thorin put his arm around her shoulders, kissed her on the forehead.   
“It is only fair. A story for a story,” he replied. “Now, about those three scars on your arm…”  
Kaylea laughed, moving to sit on top of him. “One story at a time, my king.”   
Thorin smiled up at her. “Yes, let’s make some more pleasant memories.” He reached behind her head to bring her mouth down to his, his other arm pulling her against him. He found himself thinking he would be perfectly happy to just spend the rest of his life in bed with this woman, but unfortunately life was not that simple.


	10. The King's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a piece some time ago about the Warrior's birthday, I thought it was time to write one for the King. This was originally written for a writing challenge, the prompt was: "I love you." 
> 
> Warning: Minor smut

The King of Erebor looked at the green velvet box suspiciously. “What is this?”  
“It is your birthday, brother,” Dis said, with an amused smile. “Did you think I had forgotten?”  
Thorin smiled crookedly. “You always remember, even when I forget.” He opened the box, inside was a beautifully carved ivory pipe with a long, curved stem. “Thank you, I have been needing a new one.”  
Dis chuckled. “That is an understatement.” Thorin’s old pipe had been cracked and repaired too many times, he was very fond of it but he had needed a new one for years. She looked up at her brother, it was hard to believe he was two hundred and fifty now, he looked younger than her son. Dis resolved again to ask that warrior woman for some of the medicines she had used to heal him. Whatever they were, they had not only healed Thorin’s mortal wounds after the battle for the Lonely Mountain but also made him two hundred years younger. Dis would like a dose or two herself, she did not like it that her older brother looked so much younger than she did. 

Later that night Thorin walked out along the battlements, smoking his new pipe. It was a fine spring evening, cool and clear, the smell of new growth on the breeze. He really had forgotten it was his birthday, but his family had remembered as usual. His sons had each given him a knife they had made, Durin’s metalworking skills were really coming along. Shurri had presented him with a very fine ring, a sort of peace offering since they had been arguing lately. Looking out at the vale between the slopes of the mountain, Thorin leaned on the battlement, pondering the strange twists his life had taken. All those years ago, when he had been making his way in the Ered Luin, he never imagined he would realize his dream of reclaiming Erebor, and he had certainly never expected to live this long. Two hundred and fifty. It was strange to be so old and yet feel so young. He knew some of his subjects were already calling him Thorin the Deathless, he was starting to wonder if it were true.  
It was past midnight when Thorin returned to his apartments. As he opened the door he caught the hint of a familiar scent, looking around the room he saw nothing amiss and decided he must be imagining things. It was always late at night when he missed Kaylea the most, this was not the first time he had smelled desert sand and rosewood only to be disappointed. It would be a perfect birthday if she were here, but he had no idea when she would return to Erebor. Thorin sighed and took off his boots, tossing his vest and belt over a chair. As soon as he stepped into his bedroom he had the sense someone else was there, before he could turn around he felt hands on his hips, Kaylea Wolf’s voice in his ear.  
“Happy birthday, my king”  
Thorin quickly turned and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply, relishing the taste of her, the feel of her lean body against his. How could it be that he had wished for her and suddenly she was here? He wondered if he was dreaming, hoping he would not wake up.  
“When did you get here?” Thorin asked after a moment, kissing her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. She was wearing one of his robes, tied tight with a sash around her waist. His hands traced the contours of her body under the thin fabric.  
“While you were at dinner,” Kaylea replied, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I did not want to miss your birthday. I had a hard ride to make it in time.” She smiled at him mischievously. “I have a present for you.”  
Thorin leaned his head forward to rest his forehead on hers. “You are the best birthday present I could ask for.”  
Kaylea laughed, running her fingers down one of his braids. “You have not seen it yet!”  
Thorin kissed her again, she felt so good he did not want to stop. He ran his hand past her hip and felt something around her thigh, a thin strap that felt like metal under his fingers and not in a place where she usually wore knives. He pulled back to look at her curiously. “What are you wearing?”  
She lifted his shirt off his shoulders, smiling. “That is for you to find out.”  
Thorin grinned at her, reaching for the tie of her robe. Opening it he saw she was wearing the multi-stranded necklace he had made for her, the white gems glittering against her bare skin. He ran his hand over the necklace to caress her bare breast, then down to the thin strap of gold filigree she was wearing around her leg. He could see it was set with a row of large gemstones he did not recognize. The color of rubies but with two shades, alternately brighter than darker red. The stones were only roughly cut, his brain immediately jumped to imagining what they would look like properly finished and set. As he felt around the strap for the clasp he looked up to see Kaylea smiling widely at him, her eyes dancing. She knew no matter how aroused he was by her naked body, he could not resist looking at those stones.  
“You are a naughty girl,” Thorin said teasingly, he brought his other hand up between her legs, watching her writhe with pleasure at his touch. As much as he wanted her, he could not resist taking another look at the metal belt in his hand. “What are these?”  
“They are call bloodstones. They come from a far place, on the other side of my country,” Kaylea paused, biting her lip. “Ah……, I could think of no better present for you than something you could work with your hands.”  
Thorin smiled at her, throwing the gems on the bed behind her. “Right now, there is something else I want to work with my hands,” he said, sliding the robe off her shoulders.  
Kaylea lay on the bed and pushed herself back. “Happy birthday, old man.”  
Thorin laughed. “Says the woman who made me young again.” Joining her on the bed, he kissed his way down her chest. “Thank you for the best birthday I have enjoyed in many years.”  
“I love you, my king.”  
“I love you too,” he teased. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees over her, he grasped her wrists and pinned her arms to the bed. “My naughty girl.”  
Kaylea looked up at him innocently. “Are you going to punish me?”  
“Oh, definitely…”


	11. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a bit of a running joke in The Warrior and The King stories that Thorin has a closetful of clothes while Kaylea always wears the same thing. I thought I would expand on that idea in this piece for the writing challenge. The prompt was:  
> "If the stars fell from the sky, it is because they are weeping because I received your love and they did not" 
> 
> Warning: Fluff

Spice traders had set out their wares in the square, brightly colored pyramids lined up on the flagstones under temporary awnings. Saffron, cumin, paprika, cinnamon, veiled women carefully filling glass containers as their menfolk haggled. The wagons of the salt merchants were lined up beside them, blocks stacked high like bricks, in the next aisles were bakers, butchers, farmers from across Gondor and beyond. Past the square was the permanent market of Osgiliath, long corridors of merchant stalls where one could buy anything imaginable. Southron carpets, Gondor steel, fine porcelain from Lebennin, honey and tobacco leaf from the Shire, spectacular jewelry from the kingdoms of the Dwarves, silks from across the sea. The market was famous as the center of trade for the southern lands of Middle Earth.  
Kaylea Wolf finished her conversation with the Rhun leather trader, paid the man and stepped out of the stall. She looked for Thorin but he had disappeared, again. She scanned the hallway wondering where he had gone this time. With the arrival of the caravans the market was far busier than usual, the corridors crowded with tradesmen and merchants. Kaylea was only here to meet a couple of contacts and purchase a few supplies, she had expected to quickly conclude her business and leave. However, she was finding out that Thorin Oakenshield had other ideas. She found him far down the hall, bargaining for a fine pair of leather boots.  
“Are you quite finished?” She asked him as she came up. Thorin had several silk shirts, a bolt of cashmere and a number of fine furs over his arm.  
“This market is amazing,” Thorin replied, picking up his new boots. “I cannot believe I have never been here before.”  
Kaylea chuckled at him. “At the rate you are going you will need to hire a contractor to take your purchases back to Erebor. Remember we are here on other business, my king.”  
Thorin scowled at her. “Surely it is nothing so urgent we cannot spare half a day.” He smiled at a trio of approaching Dwarves. “And I have already made arrangements. Ah, there you are!”  
The Dwarves bowed low, giving Kaylea curious glances. They were from the Iron Hills, all had heard tell of the King’s Woman, the great warrior. They were rather astonished to see the descriptions of her beauty had fallen far short. One of the young Dwarves relieved Thorin of his burdens and hurried away, the others followed the King, ready to carry his next purchases. He stopped almost immediately at a stall selling finely woven Southron carpets.  
“I am going to that pub across the square,” Kaylea said, turning to go. “Come and find me when you are finished shopping.”  
Thorin caught her hand, giving her a playful look. “Please walk with me, my love. Can we not enjoy a day together? Perhaps I can even find something here to buy for you. Maybe something that is not black?”  
Kaylea sighed, she had wanted to visit the market by herself but Thorin had insisted on coming along. She knew he was only half-teasing about her clothes, he was not fond of her habit of always wearing the same thing but she was most comfortable in her uniform. “As you command, my king.”  
Thorin smiled at her and kissed her hand. He folded his arm over hers as they strolled through the crowded halls. The two of them got many curious looks, the tall warrior, fair as an Elven lord, with her many weapons and worn travelling clothes, her golden hair braided in Dwarven style, and the unusually tall dark-haired Dwarf, richly dressed, with his short beard and fine features, obviously a lord among his people. Kaylea Wolf was known in Gondor, though she travelled there seldom, but the King of Erebor was unknown to all except the merchants who travelled north to Dale. As Thorin browsed the stalls, Kaylea stood a bit apart, automatically scanning the crowd for threats. The crush of people made her uneasy and she had not been planning to tarry here. Thorin did not have many enemies, but if he was recognized she wanted to be ready.  
“I would like to see you wear that,” Thorin said, pointing to a long silk dress. They had stopped in front of a large dressmaker’s shop, the skills of the tailor prominently displayed. The dress was a sweep of red, expertly draped and cleverly dyed darker to lighter, the silk light as a veil.  
“I am sure you would,” Kaylea smiled at him. “If I let you buy it for me, can we leave?”  
Thorin gave her a long-suffering look. “Why are you always so intent on rushing around?” He stepped up into the shop, motioning for the tailor. Kaylea rolled her eyes and followed him. Any dress Thorin bought for her would have to be fitted, and there was no way he was stopping with just one. This was going to be a very long day.  
As the afternoon wore on Kaylea despaired of ever getting Thorin out of the market. He had already filled a wagon with purchases, and seemed intent on filling a second one. While Thorin haggled with a diamond merchant, Kaylea perused the shelves at the bookseller next door, narrow aisles filled with leather-bound tomes. She found a cleverly made book of maps that folded up small enough to carry in her saddlebag and a couple of novels for her Kzin pilot who loved real books. She was glancing through a book of poetry when Thorin came up beside her.  


If the stars fell from the sky,  
they are weeping.  
I received your love  
and they did not.  


“I rather like that,” he said, reading over her shoulder.  
“I did not know you were interested in poetry,” Kaylea replied, replacing the book on the shelf.  
“There are many things we do not yet know about each other,” Thorin replied, matter-of-factly. “But that sentiment. ‘I received your love and they did not.’” He put an arm around her, kissed her neck. “I know I am certainly not the first man to court your affections, yet I was the one you chose. All the others weep with disappointment.”  
Kaylea turned to face him, running her fingers through his hair. “How could I choose otherwise, my king? You quite swept me off my feet, no one else has ever done that.”  
Thorin put a hand behind her head and pulled her mouth down to his. He had been wanting to kiss her for hours, finally they had a little privacy in the bookseller’s stall. He relished the taste of her, the way her lean body relaxed in his arms.  
“Are you finally done shopping?” Kaylea asked after a moment. She ran her hand into the back of his breeches, pulling him close. “You know we have rooms waiting, at the most famous inn in Osgiliath.”  
“I confess, I do want to see the rest of this place,” Thorin smiled at her. “But I know I have been trying your patience today. Let us go find the inn.” He picked up the book of poetry and put it on top of the other books Kaylea was carrying. “Let me buy you this one, too.”  
As Thorin was paying the bookseller he gave Kaylea a sideways glance. “I do wish I had found something for you today.”  
“Besides the four dresses? And the shoes? And the new saddlebags?”  
“That was my choice,” Thorin replied. “I was hoping you would make one of your own.”  
Kaylea shrugged. “What I carry with me and you are all I need, my king.”  
Thorin dismissed the Dwarves from the Iron Hills, after some discussion of when his goods would arrive in Erebor, then followed Kaylea out across the square to retrieve her horse from the livery. When the innkeeper had discovered his guest was the King of Erebor, he had installed Thorin and Kaylea in his best rooms. The King was very pleased to see the bathtub was large enough for two, which meant getting clean took quite a bit longer than usual.  
As Kaylea was toweling off her hair Thorin came up behind her and slipped a necklace around her neck. It was far simpler than anything he had ever made for her, just a small, ornate key on a fine silver chain. Beautifully crafted, the silver decorated with scrolling designs. Kaylea put her fingers on the key, smiling in disbelief at her King.  
“How did you happen to buy this?”  
“It was the only thing I saw your eyes linger on,” Thorin replied. “It is certainly very plain. I could make you something much finer. Why did you want this?”  
Kaylea was astonished that he had even noticed her reaction to the necklace, she thought he had been looking at the knives in the next stall. It almost frightened her how well he could read her. She prided herself on her ability to conceal all emotion, to reveal no hint of her thoughts, but apparently she was an open book to Thorin. “It reminded me of you,” she said. “It made me think of the key you were carrying when I first met you.” She shook her head, almost embarrassed to go on. “If you had not been on that journey we would never have met. I know it was the key to Erebor, but it could just as well have been the key to my heart.”  
Thorin smiled widely at her, taking her hands in his. “I thought that key opened a passage to the halls of my fathers, but in fact it unlocked something much more valuable.” He kissed her hands. “You will always hold the key to my heart, my love. Let the stars weep.”


	12. The Unwanted Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have been reading my work know I love reversing standard tropes. This little scene was inspired by a prompt from a writing challenge:
> 
> “Fear is a four-letter word that I refuse to cower to.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”   
Kaylea Wolf gave him a puzzled look. “What did you say?”  
Thorin Oakenshield smiled at her. “It is an old expression. What are you thinking about?”  
“Ah!” Kaylea said, but she did not answer. They were walking hand in hand along the gallery that overlooked the Hall of Kings. It was late, the city was quiet around them as they walked out towards the gate, taking the long way back to Thorin’s quarters. Tonight had been the last rehearsal and formal dinner before Kaylea’s coronation as Queen of Erebor, after the crowded dining hall and so many hours of keeping up appearances it was nice to enjoy a quiet moment together. Thorin studied her closely as they walked, he could tell something was troubling her. He felt a little stab of anxiety start to rise in his chest.   
“Not having second thoughts, I hope,” he said, watching for her reaction.   
Kaylea opened her mouth to speak, then smiled and shook her head. She squeezed his hand as they stepped out onto the rampart over the gates of Erebor.   
“Please tell me what it is, my love!” Thorin moved in front of her, taking her other hand in his. His eyes searched her face, looking for any clue.   
“Not second thoughts,” Kaylea said slowly. “But becoming your queen does scare me.”   
Thorin could not stop himself from laughing. “You? Afraid? I have seen you face armies of goblins, ranks of armored cave trolls and even Ringwraiths with a smile on your face. How can you be afraid of a crown?”   
Kaylea smiled at him, shaking her head. “That is different. I have trained to face death all my life, I do not fear it. I know any day could be my last.” She looked past him, at the moonlit vale that stretched out from the slopes of the mountain. “I have not trained to be a queen, I worry that I will disappoint you.”   
Thorin brought her hands together in his. “You cannot disappoint me. You could never do that.”   
“You say that because it is so easy for you,” Kaylea said. “You were born a king, you have been one all your life, for you it is as natural as breathing. This is not a part I ever expected to play.”   
Thorin looked down at her hands in his, the rings he had made for her, the jewels on her dress sparkling in the light from the braziers. “Please do not say fear will keep you from becoming my queen.”   
“Fear is a four-letter word that I refuse to cower to,” Kaylea said simply. “I am afraid, but I will go forward and conquer it, as I have trained to do.”   
Thorin smiled widely. “There is my warrior queen, I was wondering where she had gone!” He kissed her hands, breathing a little sigh of relief. All he had wanted from the day he met her was to make Kaylea Wolf his queen, now that the time was at hand he was not about to let her change her mind. She had told him many times she was not destined to be a queen. Thorin had always thought it was because she would rather be commanding armies, it had never occurred to him she felt herself unfit.   
Kaylea smiled softly at him, she brought her hand up to the side of his face. “I still cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”   
Thorin put his hand over hers, smiling at her mischievously. “You know I can be very persuasive.” He chuckled. “It still took me nearly eighty years, you are almost as stubborn as a Dwarf!”   
“That is high praise indeed!” Kaylea took his hand and resumed walking along the top of the gate. It was a pleasant late summer night, just a hint of chill in the air, the moon nearly full. The guards they encountered bowed low as they passed, a few of them offering congratulations. Thorin acknowledged them politely with a nod, he did very much enjoy walking around his city with the prettiest woman in Middle Earth on his arm. They turned away from the night, into the torchlit corridors that would lead to Thorin’s apartments.   
“You will tell me if there is anything I can do to make this easier for you,” Thorin said quietly, folding her arm over his. “You are about to make me the happiest Dwarf that ever lived, I hate to think it gives you no joy.”   
Kaylea stopped, turning to face him. “I did not say that. It makes me happy to see you happy, and I have long promised we will one day live together as man and wife. I have known the price is to play a role I never wanted, but I am happy to pay it.”  
“Try not to sound so excited on my account!” Thorin frowned. “I do not know why I had to fall in love with a woman who has no interest in title or position, who cares nothing for riches or jewelry, whose closet contains only seven sets of the same pair of clothes and a frankly astonishing number of knives.” He sighed.   
Kaylea leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you body and soul, my king. Believe me when I say I am happy to be your queen, though it does scare me a little.” She smiled widely at him. “As for the rest…well, they say opposites attract.”   
Thorin laughed. “Is that what they say?” He stroked her hair, his fingers lingering on the jeweled beads. “Do they also say opposites can be happy together?”   
“They will be blissfully happy,” Kaylea answered. Thorin slid his hand behind her head and brought her mouth down to his, kissing her deeply and passionately, a promise of many happy years to come.


	13. An Unexpected Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Warrior and The King short story from a writing challenge. The prompt was:
> 
> “Oh, my dear. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Thorin Oakenshield was sitting by the campfire enjoying a pipe and watching the sun go down in a blaze of red when the wolves came running into camp. He and Kaylea Wolf were on their way back to Erebor, camping along the Anduin on a beautiful summer night, perfect for being out of doors. Kaylea was down at the river cleaning up after dinner, all was peaceful and quiet until the wolves showed up. They came flying into camp at full speed, Vuko stopped to circle him while Ajax ran for the river. She was very agitated, Thorin could feel her pleading with him to follow her, but he could not make out why.   
“Calm down, girl,” he told her. He set aside his pipe and stopped her, grasping her head with his hands. “Tell me what it is.”  
Vuko sent him a jumble of pictures. Strangely dressed Men, wagons, wolf pelts, wolves in cages. Many wolves, and little frightened faces. Pups. He was trying to make sense of it when Kaylea strode back into the camp with Ajax.   
“It seems we have some animal traffickers in the forest,” she said, gathering her weapons.  
Thorin shook his head. “Who would want a wild wolf?”   
“Lots of reasons, none of them good.” Kaylea whistled for the horses. “For sport in the arena, to train hunting dogs, to fight them with other animals, for rich men with no hunting skill to kill in a pen.”   
“The depravity of Men never ceases to amaze me,” Thorin sighed, picking up his saddle. He looked at Vuko beside him. “And here I was, looking forward to a quiet evening.”   
Kaylea laid a hand on his shoulder. “It needs to be done,” she said. “And it will be fun!”   
Thorin rolled his eyes at his wife. Though he had spent years among them, he still did not understand the Dorsai thirst for battle, how they could run into any fight with wide smiles, always looking like they were having the time of their lives. But he also knew his wife would never understand the joy he felt working a piece of metal into exactly the right shape, even if it took days.

The wolves led the way along the edge of Mirkwood, headed north toward the old Forest Road. Thorin had many bad memories of the forest and it was still a very dense, forbidding wood, but since the defeat of Sauron it had become a much less evil place. He had ridden through it a couple of times now with Kaylea and Gandalf had been right, as long as you stayed on the road the passage was not difficult. The road ran nearly straight and was wide enough in places that sunlight and cool breezes could reach the ground.   
As soon as they went into the wood Thorin could feel the trees pressing in on both sides, absorbing most of the remaining light. He always felt as if he was being watched in Mirkwood, the old forest made him uneasy. They had not gone more than a mile when they heard noises ahead, men shouting, horses snorting, creaking wood, the crack of whips. It sounded like Men trying to get wagons moving. Kaylea guided her horse off the road into the trees, Thorin felt his skin crawling as soon as they left the road, but his wife always seemed to know where she was going. They came to a little open grove of smaller trees and left the horses, following the wolves toward the noise ahead. As they came up on the road Thorin saw it dipped down to a creek crossing where three wagons were stopped. Kaylea pulled her hood over her golden hair, staying low and keeping to the shadows they crept cautiously forward.   
The men were Southrons, dressed in the traditional garb of that race, shouting at each other in their singsong language. The first wagon looked to have made it partway across the stream and become wedged, holding up the other two. The stream was either deeper than it looked or the wheels were in a hole, the water lapped against the wagon bed. Each wagon was drawn by mules and crowded with heavy steel cages full of animals. Wolves, bears, eagles, even wolverines. Thorin could see wolf pups in separate cages from the adults, some looked barely weaned. The Men were lashing the mules, trying to move the stuck wagon. The animals were straining at the traces, several Men were in the stream pushing but they could not shift it. He glanced over at Kaylea to see her face had gone hard; you did not want to be in front of her when she looked like that.   
“I count ten,” she said quietly. “Five for each.”   
Thorin nodded. He unslung his bow and aimed for one of the Southrons lighting some torches near the last wagon. As he let the arrow fly he heard a huge splash. The men had pushed one of the bear cages off the stuck wagon to lighten the load. The cage landed at an angle, the trapped animals struggling to keep their heads above water. Now the men were moving one of the wolf cages to throw it off, the next cage behind it was full of puppies. Before Thorin or Kaylea could react their wolves were in motion, gray and white fury streaking toward the wagon, leaping to attack the two astonished Southrons.   
Kaylea vaulted onto the road to follow them, drawing her sword. “So much for the element of surprise.”   
Thorin took out a second man with an arrow, then ran after his wife. Kaylea had two of the Southrons down before they could even get their weapons out. Thorin ducked under a mace, then swung his sword to take the man’s head off, the next one was more skilled, he had to parry a few strikes before running the man through. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vuko go flying off the wagon and looked up to see one of the men had jumped up to defend his fellow and struck her a savage blow with his mace. The man shoved the wolf cage to send it into the stream and it started to tip, then slowly righted itself. Thorin blinked, it should have fallen, but something had stayed it. He looked around for his wolf and saw her standing out in the stream, shaking her head. Just then a huge white bear broke out of the woods. Roaring, she ran between the wagons trampling the last Southrons, rending them with her claws and throwing them far into the forest. At the same time a large owl hit the man who had struck Vuko in the face with his talons, knocking him off the wagon where Kaylea finished him with a sword stroke. The white bear then turned and quickly clamped her jaws on the cage in the stream, straining to drag it out of the water. Another large brown bear hurried out of the woods to help. Kaylea went to the other side of the cage, helping the bears move it to the far bank while Thorin went to Vuko. She seemed stunned but her armor had taken most of the blow, she licked Thorin’s face as he bent to check on her. Together they waded to the streambank.   
As Kaylea waded out of the stream, she turned and grinned at her husband. “Told you it would be fun,” she said, dripping with water and blood.   
Before Thorin could respond he saw Ajax and Vuko both prick their ears and followed their gaze to see a tall, brown-robed figure standing in the road leaning on a wooden staff. Even in the dark Thorin would have recognized him, the narrow-brimmed felt hat with a sprig of oak tucked in the band, the close-trimmed brown beard streaked with grey, the array of pouches and tools hanging from his belt. He was speaking softly to the mules in some musical language, the brown owl on his shoulder swiveling its head from side to side.  
Kaylea was laughing. “Radagast the Brown. What a surprise to find you here! I am sorry if we ruined your ambush.”   
The wizard waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, my dear. You have nothing to apologize for. You gave those heathens a quicker death than Oso would have.” He spoke to the mules and they walked forward, the wagon wheels suddenly turning freely; all three were soon across the creek. “But I could use a little help with these cages, if you don’t mind,” the wizard said. He walked around to the back of the wagon where the cage of wolves was still teetering. He put a hand on it and it slid back, then he nodded towards the caged bears beside Kaylea. “Ah, those first!”   
Kaylea moved around to work the lock on the cage, making sure to stand behind the door as she opened it. The two wet bears clambered out, sniffing at the other bears gratefully. Radagast came over and laid a hand on each of their heads, the bears were still for a moment then turned and disappeared into the forest. Thorin jumped up on the wagon, he and Kaylea began to unload the animals. As they placed each cage on the ground Radagast spoke softly to the animals inside, carefully looked each of them over and treated their wounds with the astonishing array of herbs and ointments he was carrying in his pouches. The animals each bowed in their own way to the wizard before heading off in different directions. The process took quite some time, Thorin found torches on the wagons and got them lit so the wizard could work. The last cages to be opened were the wolves and puppies, the younger ones went immediately to the adults, but two groups of older puppies hung back uncertainly.   
“Why do they not join the others?” Thorin asked, puzzled.   
“Their parents are here,” Radagast said gravely, laying his hand on the stack of wolf pelts on the second wagon. “Those will not accept them.”   
“Can you not persuade them?” Kaylea asked. “They look too young to be on their own.”   
Radagast shook his head. “The society of wolves had many rules. They will never take in the young from another pack, they view it as aiding their rivals. It is not my place to ask.” He looked over at Ajax and Vuko, standing together by the stream. “Maybe those two will.”   
Thorin’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! I am not taking…” he counted quickly. “Ten wolves to Erebor!”   
The wizard’s green eyes laughed in the torchlight. “Why not? Your mountain has plenty of game, and once your wolves have taught them to hunt they can form their own pack in the northern Misty Mountains.”   
“Except for the one your daughter is going to keep,” Kaylea smiled. “Of course, she might try to keep them all.”   
Thorin rolled his eyes. “They are not coming with us!” But before he could protest further the pups trotted over to the Dorsai wolves, wagging their tails and licking at the noses of the tall adults.   
“Well, that is decided then!” Radagast exclaimed, clapping his hands. All the cages were emptied and reloaded, the mules standing quietly in their harnesses. The big white bear reappeared out of the trees and Thorin realized all the bodies of the Southrons were gone. He looked at Radagast again, thinking the Brown wizard was never what he expected. He seemed younger and had a sense of physical strength that Gandalf lacked, and while Gandalf always seemed intent on being in the middle of every story, Radagast quietly went about his work. He realized suddenly what he had taken to be a pouch on the wizard’s belt was actually a bat when it fluttered its wings.  
“What will you do with these wagons?” Thorin asked, eyeing the bat dubiously.   
“I will take them to Esgaroth. I know a man who can give these fine animals some honest work and these cages will make a sturdy fence.” The wizard climbed into the wagon seat and took up the reins. “Thank you again for your help,” he said as the mules started forward. “Take good care of those wolves, or you will have to answer to me!” 

Thorin looked at the group of wolves. Ajax was giving Kaylea a sheepish look, but Vuko was wagging her tail and licking the puppies. Kaylea laughed and stepped over to put her arm around her husband.   
“I think you said you wanted more children,” she teased.   
“No, I certainly did not,” Thorin leaned over to kiss her neck. “Three was more than enough trouble.” He gave Vuko a stern look. “These are your responsibility, Miss Wolf. You keep them out of the city, on the far side of the mountain.”   
Vuko blinked at him and led the pups across the stream, Ajax followed, carefully herding the swimming youngsters.   
“Time to get back to camp and build up that fire,” Thorin said. The night was wearing on, he was wet to the waist and the forest was cool under the trees. “Wash up and get warm.”   
“I can warm you up faster in our bedroll, husband,” Kaylea said slyly, taking his hand as they made their way back towards the horses.   
Thorin chuckled, pulling her close to kiss her. “Now, that is a definition of fun I can understand!” He reached up to brush a loose lock of hair away from her face. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”   
She smiled at him. “Not lately. Maybe when we get back to camp you can show me.”


	14. Stuck With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine being stuck in quarantine with Thorin...
> 
> A little Warrior and The King sketch I wrote while sitting around in airports last week. 
> 
> Warning: Isolation fluff

Thorin Oakenshield was restringing his harp. He had quite lost track of the last time the strings had been changed, some were so stretched he could not properly tune it. As he attached each string he tightened it carefully, listening until it was true. It was one of those tasks that couldn’t be rushed, so now was a perfect time. There was some kind of sickness sweeping through the cities of Men, it was in Esgaroth and in Dale. Thorin and Kaylea had unknowingly ridden through those towns on their way to Erebor and though they were unaffected, the Dwarven healers in Erebor insisted they stay isolated. They did not want the sickness to spread to the Lonely Mountain. Thorin was rather enjoying himself; he had no objection to setting aside the responsibilities of his kingdom for a time, and he had a bench full of jewelry projects waiting for his attention.   
Kaylea Wolf looked up from the knife she was sharpening. “When you get that finished, are you going to sing me a tune?”   
“I might,” Thorin replied, smiling at his wife. The first few days of isolation had gone by quickly, as they worked with their ship’s computer to find a treatment for the virus. It had been Thorin’s idea to put it in the water supply. If the sickness came to Erebor they were ready. Now Thorin could sense Kaylea was getting restless, if he didn’t find a way to calm her nerves she would soon be like a tiger in a cage. He thought a little music might help.   
Thorin tightened the last screw and ran his fingers over the strings. He so seldom had the time to play anymore, he always seemed to forget how much he enjoyed it. He made a few more adjustments, then let his fingers pick up a melody that had been popular in Erebor recently, followed by a few songs from Dorsai. As he played the music carried him away, when he stopped to stretch his fingers he realized he did not know how long he had been playing. It must have been quite some time, Kaylea was now stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, the silver beads in her golden hair sparkling in the lamplight.   
“I could listen to you play all day,” she sighed, not opening her eyes.   
“Your turn to serenade me now,” Thorin said.  
Kaylea chuckled. “I have no talent for music, you know that.”   
“Nonsense. I have heard you sing, you have a voice any Elf would envy.”   
“The Queen does not feel like singing today. She commands you to continue.” Kaylea still hadn’t moved or opened her eyes.   
Thorin picked up a cushion from the bench next to him and threw it at her. “The Queen does not command the King,” he laughed. “Don’t make me come over there.”   
Kaylea blocked the cushion from hitting her in the face. “Are you threatening me?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She threw the pillow back at him. Thorin caught it and hit her with it again. At the same time Kaylea grabbed one off the couch and followed the first pillow with a second. Suddenly they were grinning hysterically, smacking each other with the soft cushions, as loose feathers floated in the air around them. Thorin took Kaylea down first, as she hit the floor she swept his legs out from under him. Thorin fell heavily next to her, raising a cloud of feathers. He wrapped her in his arms, laughing.   
“I win,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face.   
“How do you figure that?” His wife asked, running her hand up under his shirt.   
“I made you laugh,” Thorin leaned in and kissed her, pulling her tight against him. “If you are this grumpy after four days, I hate to think I will be stuck with you for a fortnight.”   
Kaylea chuckled, fingering one of his braids. “I don’t suppose the King could decree himself immune from this virus and get us out of here?”   
“Why would I do that? I never get you to myself for this long,” Thorin smiled at her. “Dwarves are hardy folk, we are not prone to the many illnesses of Men. I very much doubt Erebor will even be affected; the healers are just being cautious.”   
Kaylea’s eyes narrowed. “So, you set this up to keep me prisoner?”   
“Would I do that?” Thorin grinned slyly, his hands running up her body. “And I don’t want a prisoner.”   
“So, what do you want, husband?” Kaylea slid her hands down his back and into his trousers.   
“A happy wife,” Thorin kissed her neck, then started working his way down. Kaylea writhed with pleasure at the touch of his lips on her skin. Even after so many years together Thorin’s touch still sent thrills through her body. Smiling she grabbed his wrists and rolled him onto his back, sitting on his stomach she pinned his hands down.   
“What will you do to keep your wife happy, I wonder?”

Days later Thorin walked through the apartments looking for his wife. He had been working on a necklace for her and wanted to check the length. A whole section of the royal residence had been set aside for them so they had plenty of space to move around. He came upon a trail of bloody footprints and followed them to find Kaylea at the table in the sitting room with a glass of water. She was in her close-fitting training clothes, a sheen of sweat on her chest and shoulders.   
“My love, what have you been doing?” Thorin asked, pointing at the floor. Kaylea looked at the floor and then at the bottoms of her feet.   
“Just some weapons kata. I guess I went a bit hard.”   
Thorin shook his head at her and went to the bedroom to retrieve his medkit. Did everyone who married a Dorsai have these problems? Do you not think it might be time to stop if your feet were bleeding? He took a seat at the table and looked at Kaylea expectantly until she put her feet in his lap. He took a bit of cell-foam and spread it over the raw spots, massaging it to form a new layer of skin.   
“What am I going to do with you?” Thorin sighed.   
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Kaylea looked at him over the top of her glass.   
“Should I tie you up? I wonder if that would keep you from hurting yourself,” Thorin worked the knots in her foot with his thumbs, his mind running down a pleasant path.   
“It could also be entertaining,” Kaylea added, rubbing her other foot against him.   
“It certainly would,” Thorin grinned wickedly at her. “But we are only a few days from a fortnight, I could probably get the healers to let us out. The sickness has not come to Erebor.”   
“No,” Kaylea replied, relaxing as Thorin worked on her feet. “I was just thinking we should stay another week.”   
Thorin looked up at her, genuinely surprised. “I thought you hated this!”   
Kaylea smiled at him. “It has become a kind of challenge, it reminds me of things I learned in my early days of training.”   
Thorin scowled at her. “Why is everything about training to you? Can’t you just enjoy having time with your husband?” He dropped her feet and sat back.   
“Let me finish,” Kaylea sat forward, grasping his hand. “I did hate it at first, but it forced me to slow down and examine why I am always rushing around. I have been reminded that every day is unique; this day will never come again and I must strive to appreciate every moment.” She reached over to touch the side of his face. “I love you, husband. There is nowhere I would rather be than with you, no matter what we are doing. I am just sorry it took this period of confinement for me to realize it.”   
Thorin leaned forward and kissed her, sweat on her skin always made her smell like desert sand. “I love you, wife. Even though you do drive me crazy,” he leaned his forehead against hers. “Can we really stay another week?”   
“Of course,” Kaylea said. She looked down the table at the necklace Thorin had brought with him. “What have you been working on?”   
“Ah! I think you will like this one,” Thorin got up and moved around behind her chair. The necklace was indeed spectacular; a row of intricately-worked wolf’s heads, each with a sparkling row of stones flowing from its mouth. Thorin stood back, eyeing it critically, counting the tiny flaws that only he could see. Kaylea went over to the mirror by the mantlepiece. The stones were a bit bigger than Thorin usually used in her jewelry, although quite subdued by Dwarven standards Kaylea felt blinded looking at it. But she knew how much pride her husband took in his work and had learned to look thrilled to wear it.   
“You have outdone yourself this time,” she said. “It looks perfect.”   
Thorin frowned, he came up behind and put his arms around her, looking at the necklace in the mirror. “There are several things that need to be changed,” he said. “But the length is right.”   
Kaylea leaned back against him. “So, what shall we do tonight? You still owe me a rematch on the chessboard.”   
The King chuckled. He knew one day he was going to regret teaching her that game, but right now she could not beat him. He ran his fingers over the necklace, then down her body and between her legs. “I have a better idea. How about we get dinner sent up and cuddle by the fire?”   
“Sounds perfect,” Kaylea said. “I will hit the shower. What shall I wear for dinner, my king?”  
“Just that necklace, my love.”


	15. Thief In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Warrior and The King/Fantastic Beasts crossover story, because who doesn’t like nifflers? And can you imagine on loose in Erebor? 
> 
> Warnings: Silliness and thievery

“My king, what are you thinking about?” Kaylea Wolf asked, running her foot up the inside of Thorin’s leg. They were in his office, drinking coffee and looking over some old maps, Kaylea was sitting on the edge of his desk. Thorin Oakenshield looked up at her with a soft smile, about to reply when his wife suddenly appeared in the doorway.  
“What have you done with my jewelry?” She demanded, pointedly not looking in Kaylea’s direction.   
Thorin scowled at her. “Why would I do anything with your jewelry?”   
Shurri drew herself up, her hands on her hips. “It is all gone! Even all the jewels on my dresses. What is the meaning of this?”   
“Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?” Thorin replied angrily. He glanced at Kaylea, saw her incline her head towards the door. “Show me.”   
Shurri snorted, turned on her heel and stalked off towards her apartments. Thorin followed, with Kaylea a few steps behind. When they reached her rooms Thorin could see the place looked almost as if it had been burgled; drawers open, clothes strewn about.   
Kaylea scanned the scene from the doorway, knowing the Queen would not want her inside. “How long was your majesty away from your rooms?”   
Shurri’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, not wanting to acknowledge Thorin’s Woman. Suddenly there was a shriek from the hallway. Thorin was immediately out the door, he and Kaylea hurrying down the corridor. Freya, Thorin’s daughter, was standing in the door of her apartments, her face white.   
“Someone has been in my room!” She exclaimed as soon as she saw her father. “All my jewelry is gone!”   
Kaylea quickly walked through her apartments, the scene was the same as the Queen’s. Freya’s jewelry chest was open and empty, as she stopped to inspect it she caught a glimpse of something small and black disappearing under the wardrobe.   
“Do you have a cat, your highness?” Kaylea asked, moving slowly towards the wardrobe.   
“Puss is just there,” Freya replied, motioning to the tabby cat regarding them quietly from the bed.   
“Another cat. A black one?” Kaylea slowly knelt down.   
“No.” Freya shook her head. “What are you doing?”   
Kaylea knelt and lowered her head to the floor. There was a black creature under the wardrobe, not a cat. It was chubby and soft looking, had a bill like a duck, bright eyes and almost human hands. As soon as she laid eyes on it the creature shot across the room and past Thorin out the door, without giving anyone time to react. It was amazingly fast.   
“What in Mahal’s name is that?” Thorin asked, as they hurried to follow it. When they got to the hall it was already far up the stairs. “It is heading towards my rooms!”   
Kaylea paused, sending a mental call to Ajax to come to her. She knew he was in the city, probably down in the kitchens looking for a handout. She felt the touch of his mind and knew he was on his way as she followed Thorin up the stairs. Thorin stormed through his rooms, opening the door to his bedroom to find an extraordinary sight. The little creature was sitting on his dresser, all the drawers were open and it seemed to be stuffing rings into its pouch. As soon as it saw them it disappeared over the mirror. The little animal was fast.   
Thorin looked over his things. “It has my crown,” he said. “Where did it put it? It certainly was not wearing it.”   
Kaylea closed the door. Thorin’s apartments were huge and as fast as that animal was, it could be anywhere. “I guess that pouch is much bigger than it looks,” she said. “You have never heard of this animal?”   
Thorin shook his head, bending down to look under the furniture. “I have no idea what it is, but I want my things back.” His face was dark.   
They split up, each taking a side of the room, moving slowly, inspecting every place it could be hiding. Suddenly Kaylea saw Thorin lunge forward, the little creature was running around the bed, heading for the door. Kaylea jumped and got a hand on it, but it flowed out of her grasp then flattened itself to slip under the door. She pulled the door open to see the creature frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Freya standing in the doorway to the hall.  
“Do not hurt it! Look how cute it is!” She knelt down, holding her hand out. “Come here, I will not hurt you.”   
Kaylea watched as the little animal took a few steps towards her. She realized it was not focused on her face, but her necklace, swinging free from her neck as she bent over. In what seemed like one smooth motion the creature jumped forward, grabbed her necklace, stuffed it in its pouch and made a break for the door. Freya grabbed at it, but missed. Thorin and Kaylea ran past her, the animal was already far down the hall. They chased it through the princes’ apartments, then saw it start down another stairway only to suddenly back up. Ajax was coming up the stairs, his yellow eyes fixed on the little creature. It looked quickly back at Kaylea, then the wolf, considering its options. It chose the stairs and ran right at Ajax, he grabbed it in his jaws, the animal squeaked loudly and somehow freed itself, shooting between the wolf’s legs and away. All three of them ran after it, into the Hall of Kings. Kaylea saw it pause and run straight for the throne.   
“The Arkenstone,” she said quietly.   
“I think not,” Thorin said, his voice murderous. He realized he still had the piece of quartz in his pocket he had picked up in the mine that morning. Quickly judging the distance, he pitched it at the running animal, the rock hit it square on the shoulder and sent it sprawling. Ajax, who was close behind, was on it in a flash. This time he held it down with his paws, holding its head in his mouth. Thorin immediately grabbed the creature by its feet, giving it a sharp shake.   
“Give me back my things, you little shit,” he growled. The Raven Crown fell out of the animal’s pouch and rolled across the floor, accompanied by several rings and chains. Thorin handed it to Kaylea and stooped to pick up his crown. The thing had fur like ruffled velvet and was incredible slippery, but she found its feet were easy to hold on to. It was very much heavier than it looked, she was amazed it could move so fast loaded down with jewelry. The animal kept curling up, chittering softly, as if to protect its pouch. Kaylea held it by one foot and poked its belly, this seemed to tickle it so she poked it harder. As she did so a stream of jewels and jewelry began to flow out onto the floor.   
Thorin looked at the growing pile. “I am going to boil that thing alive.”   
“Do not say that, father!” Freya exclaimed breathlessly as she came up. She was fascinated with the little creature. “I do not think it meant any harm. It just likes shiny things! And look how cute!”   
“Cute,” Kaylea said. “And not something that should be running loose around Erebor. Imagine if it got into the treasury.”   
Shurri strode up behind Freya, her face astonished at the pile of gems and jewelry the creature has stashed in its pouch. “Where did this thing come from?”   
Kaylea glanced at Thorin. “Any ideas, your majesty?”   
Thorin looked thoughtful. “Not yet. I wonder if it was deliberately sent here to steal the Arkenstone, or the treasury, or both.”   
“Possible, but it acts like a wild animal,” Kaylea said. “And it is certainly not the only creature to be attracted to shiny things.”   
“Can I keep it?” Freya asked hopefully, giving her father a pleading look.   
“Absolutely not,” Thorin frowned at her. His daughter was such a lover of animals. He would prefer to wring the thing’s neck and be done with it.   
“I will take care of it,” Kaylea said, grabbing the animal by both feet and giving it a sharp shake, as Thorin had done. Shurri’s best necklace fell out on the pile. “I have a way to keep it safe. Find out if it belongs to anyone, and if there are more of them.”   
When they had recovered all the family’s jewelry, and much more they did not recognize, Kaylea walked back to her quarters, holding the animal by its foot. Ajax walked close beside her, ready if the creature wiggled out of her grasp. The little animal made soft squeaking noises, trying to free itself. Then it spotted the mithril beads she wore on her braids and tried to climb up her arm to get them. Once in her rooms Kaylea put the animal in a stasis box, there was no way it could escape and Erebor would be safe. As she watched the lights on the box turn green to indicate the animal was safely contained, she could not help wondering if it really could have fit the whole treasury of Erebor in its pouch. 

The next day many enquiries were made and the city thoroughly searched. Erebor was a great center of trade and there were always many people coming and going, but no one admitted to losing an animal. It was possible its owner had moved on not knowing it was missing. More importantly, they did not find any more of them. Freya badgered Kaylea with questions. Was the creature getting enough to eat? Could she see it? Kaylea politely put her off, reassuring her the animal was getting the best care and she would not try to convince her father to let her keep it.  
Late that evening, Thorin and Kaylea were walking along the battlements when they saw a familiar figure approaching. There was no mistaking Radagast the Brown, even at a distance. Tall and lean, his brown robes showing the signs of long travel, a goshawk on his shoulder and a spring of oak in his short-brimmed felt hat.   
Kaylea bowed as the wizard came up. “Radagast the Brown, what a surprise to find you in Erebor!”   
The Brown wizard smiled. “Yes, I would not be here if my errand was not urgent. The Lonely Mountain is beautiful, but this city gives me a headache. Anyway, an associate of mine has…ah, misplaced…one of his animals. Have any of your jewels gone missing, your majesty?”   
Thorin scowled. “Only my wife’s, my daughter’s and my own. We caught it before it got any further.”   
“So, you have it! That is good news!” Radagast nodded quickly. “An unfortunate lapse in judgement on my friend’s part. You should never bring a niffler anywhere near a Dwarf city! Goodness, no!”   
“A niffler?” Kaylea asked. “Is that what it is called?”   
The wizard smiled. “Yes. Harmless little creatures really. But they do love precious things.”   
“They certainly seem able to steal a great many,” Thorin scowled at the wizard. “Where do they come from?”   
Radagast put on his best mysterious wizard look. “There are many creatures in Middle Earth that live unseen alongside us. The niffler is one.”   
Kaylea smiled. “I would not dispute that, but this creature has no equal as a thief. What does this associate of yours do with it?”   
“He has a scholarly interest in magical creatures,” Radagast explained. “And he does keep quite a few of them, but he is an honest man. He came to the mountain looking for a particular animal on the high slopes, I ran into him searching the forest for his lost niffler. Of course, I knew immediately where it had gone. He was completely unaware there was a city on the other side of the mountain, like me he spends most of his time away from them.” The wizard chuckled. “I told him I would retrieve his animal, as I am known here and he is not.”   
“I want that thing out of my city. I will hand it into your keeping if you promise you can prevent it from getting loose again,” Thorin said. “And if you take it far from here and give me your word it will not come back.”   
“You have my word,” the wizard replied solemnly.   
Kaylea led the way to her quarters. Radagast gave her a startled look when he saw the stasis box. “A magical box for a magical creature,” Kaylea explained, laying the flat square of metal on the table. “I trust you have a way of catching this thing when I open it.”   
She touched the edge, there was a shimmer of blue light and the niffler appeared. It looked at them and started to launch itself, but Radagast held out a hand and spoke a few words. The little creature happily sat back and let the wizard put it in his robe. Radagast gave Kaylea’s box a curious glance.   
“What it that, if I may ask?” He asked. “I have never seen the like.”   
“Something from my homeland,” Kaylea said, slipping the box into a drawer. “You might say it is a place of many wonders.”   
Radagast laughed. “Since you come from there also, I must agree! Thank you both, I will be on my way. And do not worry, your majesty, you will not be bothered by this niffler again.” He bowed to Thorin and took his leave, striding purposely along the gallery towards the gates.   
“For a wizard, he is not so bad,” Thorin said thoughtfully, watching his retreating back. “Though it does concern me we have never seen one of these creatures before. I hope there are not many more of them.”   
“I cannot imagine they are very common,” Kaylea said, leaning against the doorframe. “If they were the Dwarves would have encountered them long ago.”   
“That is true enough,” he turned toward Kaylea with a mischievous smile. “It occurs to me I never did answer your question the other day.”   
“Mmmm…,” Kaylea responded, running her fingers down his braid. “Then shall we finish that conversation?”   
“Talking is not exactly what I had in mind,” Thorin slapped her playfully on the butt as he followed her into her quarters and shut the door.


End file.
